
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 



Shelf 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 














































































































































































































































THE PRICE OF A CORONET 


CASSELL’S BLUE LIBRARY. 


1. A Christian Woman. 

By Emilia Pardo Bazan. 

2. There is No Devil. 

By Maurus Jokai. 

3. The Story of Two Lives. 

By Stuart Sterne. 

4. A Wedding Trip. 

By Emilia Pardo Bazan. 

5. The Price of a Coronet. 

Adapted by Mrs. Benj. Lewis. 


THE 




N\ S 


PRICE OF A CORONET 


OR 

JEANNE BERTH OUT 

Countess de Mercoeur 


ADAPTED FROM THE FRENCH OF 

PIERRE SALES 

9 > 

BY 

MRS. BENJAMIN LEWIS 

/ 


OFCo/y^ 
oPYR/GKr^LO 

j 

w 

./ , 


'JL C-^ 

NEW YORK X 

CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY 

104 & 106 Fourth Avenue 



Copyright, 1891, by 

CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY. 


All rights reserved . 


THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS 
RAHWAY, N. J. 


TO MY HUSBAND : 


FELICES TER ET AMPLIUS • 

QUOS IRRUPTA TENET COPULA NEC MALIS 
DIVULSUS QUERIMONIIS. 

SUPREMA CITIUS SOLVET AMOR DIE. 


— Horace. 



The Price of a Coronet. 


i. 

“Ruined ! ruined ! ” 

These were the first words that fell from the lips 
of Raoul Pontais, Count of Mercoeur, one bright 
June morning. 

At the sound of his voice, Joseph, his valet, softly- 
entered the room bringing the mail and daily 
papers. 

“ Did you call me, sir?” 

“ No ! I will ring when I want you.” 

Raoul, thoroughly awakened, mechanically roll- 
ing a cigarette, thought of Gascony ! Gascony, 
where he was born, and where the happiest hours 
of his life had been spent. Joseph’s “trainent” 
Southern accent had recalled these memories. Gas- 
cony, the home of his fathers, whose ruined, though 
still habitable, chateau was there situated betwixt 
the road and the river. In his fancy, while seated on 
the edge of his bed this bright summer morning, he 
could recall the vine-clad slope, and the avenue of tall 


i 


2 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

poplars, his mother’s favorite walk, and where he as 
a boy first learned to ride on a small Shetland pony. 
Through the past ten years, even now, the sound of 
the peasant’s voice coming home from the harvest 
field seemed near him, he imagined, as though he 
could hear them say, “ Make way for the young 
count.” These thoughts almost distracted him, and 
as though anxious to banish the word “ Ruined,” he 
muttered “ Mercoeur sur Baise.” Mercoeur is sit- 
uated near Livone, whose fertile fields are the pride 
of Gascony. The old ruined banqueting hall which 
was built even before the time of the wars of Henry 
IV, who after the peace of Nervain exclaimed to an 
ancestor of Raoul’s, “ Ventre-saint*gris ! I want to 
shake the hand of such a redoubtable adversary.” 
To-day owls and bats flew in and out of the halls 
and unhinged doors, where kings had dined. 

Raoul was at Mercoeur finishing his studies 
when the tocsin of the Franco-Prussian war 
sounded, and only after much persuasion was he 
allowed to accompany his father. He was the last 
of his race. 

A few months later, his mother, receiving no 
tidings of her dear ones, went to meet the army of 
the Loire ; searching all the hospitals and ambu- 
lances for her husband and son, she found her son 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


3 


dangerously wounded and delirious, the sole sur- 
vivor of his family ; his father had fallen at the 
battle of Patay. 

The grief-stricken wife and sorrowing mother 
nursed her son tenderly during those awful days, 
obliged to live in a hovel with scarce food enough, 
much less medicines, and needful assistance ; the 
privations she endured caused her to contract 
malarial fever, from which she never recovered. 
Two years later Raoul was an orphan. 

Alone in the world at twenty-two, and master of 
a large fortune, the dullness of the chateau began to 
pall on him ; shooting, going to church, and solemn 
dinners were all very well, but youth requires more 
gayety. One fine day he informed his aunt, the 
Countess de Lensac, that he was going to Paris, 
and to see the world ; so he gave a farewell dinner 
to college chums ; and to his aunt’s disgust to 
Paris he went. 

Paris ! the modern Babylon ! in whose gilded 
chains many a Southern gentleman has been en- 
slaved. Joseph, his foster brother, accompanied 
him. Raoul’s fortune was principally in real estate, 
the rents of which would have permitted him to 
live luxuriously, had he been content with one 
establishment ; but it was certainly not enough for 


4 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

two. Daring the first year of his residence in 
Paris the returns from his vintage were less than 
usual, so he ordered his lawyer to sell the property 
at Courdette. His aunt, when she heard of the 
sale, wrote him an indignant letter of four pages, 
finishing with this postscript, “ Perhaps you remem- 
ber the proverb here, ‘ those that sell a field, finish 
by selling their homes.’ ” 

“ What nonsense ! the prophecies of an old 
woman ! ” cried Raoul, throwing her letter in the 
fire ; and he was so angry that he would not write 
to congratulate her on the New Year. 

But the old lady was right. She foretold truly 
the future ; after Courdette, then the fields of 
Bounes, next the vineyards of Loustel, and in a 
little while all the outlying property and farms of 
Mercoeur went under the hammer. Sometimes the 
old peasants, after their work was over, would dis- 
cuss the young count and his follies. “ What a 
spendthrift ! In five years he will not have a 
penny ! ” Only the young people in Livone cared 
to talk about Raoul and his exploits and bravery 
during the war. Nothing pleased them more than 
to see his name in the paper as a great society leader 
of the jeunesse dorde of Paris. They dared not ex- 
press their opinions aloud in the presence of their 


The price of a coronet. $ 

parents, still they thought he must be happy. Why, 
he had even caused a great social scandal, and when 
he came to Livone, he was not even proud, or cared 
to discuss it. 

Even though he sold his property, he was having 
a royal good time ; they wished they could do like- 
wise. Besides, he could always get a rich wife. 
What woman could refuse the Count of Mercoeur ? 
Had not Saint Baise got himself a rich wife ? The 
wiseacres shrugged their shoulders and shook their 
heads, saying, “ He will sell all he has, even the 
chateau.” “ No ! no ! not the chateau ! ” the 
young Livonaise would say when they heard their 
elders talking. “ Nobody in Gascony sells his 
homestead, his birthplace.” 

One fine morning notices were posted announcing 
the sale of Mercoeur, the park and gardens. The 
news almost caused a revolution in Livone. The 
old folks were triumphant, the young hung their 
heads. In selling Mercoeur, Raoul evidently was 
at the end of his resources. He must have spent 
his money fast to have gone through three hundred 
thousand francs in ten years. Ill news travels 
apace. Marietta, his aunt’s cook, heard it in the 
market place, and hurried home to tell her mistress. 

“ What ! What on earth are you saying, Mari- 


6 the price op a coronet. 

etta?” she exclaimed. “ Mercoeur advertised for 
sale ? You go right back to the market place, and 
tell all your gossiping friends that it is false, false, 
do you hear ? Some malicious falsehood, gotten 
up by an enemy of the count to ruin him. I my- 
self will go and see his lawyer.” 

After dark that evening the Countess de Lensac, 
heavily cloaked and veiled, went on foot and alone 
to see Maitre Lousseteau, Raoul’s notary. 

“ Is it true that you have received orders to sell 
Mercoeur ? ” she inquired. 

“ A positive order, Mademoiselle,” replied the 
notary. 

“ What are the park and grounds worth ? I can 
guess pretty much the value of the chateau ! ” 

“ About seventy-five thousand francs ; property 
has depreciated very much lately, and — you know 
no one has lived in the chateau for the past ten 
years.” 

“ Very well, Maitre Lousseteau. You will mort- 
gage my vineyards at Ponsans, they are worth ten 
thousand francs, then there are the farms at Mon- 
tesprou. You had better sell them outright for 
thirty thousand francs, I know a purchaser. If you 
send to my house in the morning I will give the 
money to make up eighty thousand francs which 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 7 

you will remit at once to my nephew, and tell him 
at the same time that a foreigner has bought the 
chateau for cash. Do you understand distinctly 
what I tell you, as he must never know that I 
bought it ? Never ! Nor must anyone at Livone 
know it, not even your wife ; and if you are asked 
who owns the chateau, say the Count of Mercoeur, 
of course ! ” 

That evening, several of the countess’s friends 
came in to play piquet. The dowager Countess 
de Lontras, seeing how nervous she was, inquired: 

“ Have you heard the news in the town about a 
sale ? ” 

“ What sale ? ” 

“ Mercoeur.” 

“ So you have heard that gossip, have you ? I 
never knew such a woman as you for listening to 
idle talk. I don’t like to say it, but certainly you 
must be very gullible, to think that my nephew 
would sell his birthplace. I grant you he is a 
spendthrift, but still my sister’s son is a gentleman, 
and incapable of selling the house where his 
mother died. Incapable ! yes, it is preposterous to 
think of it ! ” 

Poor old Aunt Lensac, “Aunt Economy,” as she 
was called in her family, what tears would have 


8 


THE PRICE OF A VORONET. 


coursed down her wrinkled cheeks if she could 
have heard her nephew’s voice when he opened the 
letter inclosing the draft. 

“ Comment ? Is there any foreigner foolish enough 
to pay eighty thousand francs for that old barrack 
of a chateau ? ” 

Joseph, when he heard of the sale, took it more 
seriously to heart. He had never forgotten his 
birthplace, and often wished he was back working 
in the harvest field. The splendor of his master’s 
life in Paris ill accorded with the thrifty way in 
which he had been brought up. He struggled for 
a few moments to control his emotion, but could 
not. Tearfully he asked his master if it was true. 
“ The other property I did not mind, but Mercoeur, 
it breaks my heart to think of it.” 

Raoul had recovered his usual gayety, with the 
eighty thousand francs in hand, and shrugging his 
shoulders, said, “ Yes.” 

Another year of pleasure was before him. Eighty 
thousand francs would last him a year. This year 
lasted only six months, and the last franc sent by 
Maitre Lousseteau had been spent with the same 
careless bonho?7iie as if there were ten thousand 
more at the back of it. For the last ten months 
they had been living on credit, and the only ready 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


9 


money that he had, had been procured by the sale 
of his bric-a-brac and silver. Lately he had to sell 
his mare, Fille d’or; she had won him fifty thousand 
francs at Auteuil one sunny day. Sunny days al- 
ways brought him good luck. 

‘‘When it rains I have the blues,” he said to 
himself. 

Still seated on the bed, he thought of the fifty 
thousand francs he had once spent in six weeks, 
assisted by a few friends. “ I did fling money 
away,” he muttered. 

But he never gave a thought that he had almost 
flung his life away. He rang the bell for Joseph, 
and when he came in said : 

“Put the jewel case away, Joseph.” These were 
the last valuables he had in his possession, his 
mother’s jewels, and a valuable ring, that she had 
placed on his finger the day he went to the war. 
“ I cannot sell that,” he said, “ I would rather cut 
my throat.” 

Joseph was mournfully brushing his clothes ; 
once in a while he would open his mouth as if he 
wanted to speak to his master, but it hurt him to 
have to say the tradespeople refused him any longer 
credit. That morning even the washerwoman had 
asked for her money. Raoul loved his valet, and 


IO the price of a coronet. 

when he spoke of him he would say, “ He is not a 
servant, he is the last of my family retainers, he 
serves me as I serve my country.” 

Joseph had taken complete charge of his domes- 
tic affairs since he had been in Paris, and managed 
it as well as the best of housekeepers. He was 
proud of his master and desirous that the service 
should be absolutely faultless. Knowing his em- 
ployer’s private transactions better than most ser- 
vants, he could get rid of an importunate creditor or 
a troublesome mistress with more cleverness than 
Raoul himself, and was amply recompensed if his 
master would only speak a few words in patois 
while he was dressing. 

“ Excuse me, sir, but I am sorry to say the con- 
cierge says he won’t wait any longer for the rent, 
which was due in April, and which no doubt you 
have forgotten to pay.” Joseph, in spite of the 
many difficulties that surrounded him, could always 
invent some story to excuse his master, and for the 
last two months had kept the concierge quiet — an 
unheard-of feat, in Paris. 

“You say he will not wait any longer?” asked 
Raoul indifferently, as he began to break the seal 
of a letter, “Why, here is a letter from de Bressac ! 
I wonder what he has got to say ! Oh ! yes, he 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


ii 


wants me to lunch with a charming baroness — de- 
lighted, I am sure, Joseph !' Get out my gray suit of 
clothes, be quick about it. What is the time ? ” 

Joseph went to look at the clock. 

“ Half-past ten, sir.” 

“Trains leave every hour, so I can easily be at 
Bellevue by noon.” 

Joseph laid out the clothes asked for carefully 
on the chair, wishing he might find courage to ask 
his master for the money to pay the laundress. 
Raoul in going out said, “ I shall be late coming 
home, Joseph. You can spend the day any way 
you like.” 

Any way he liked. That meant to say, as if he 
liked closing the door to importunate creditors, 
perhaps a sheriff’s officer who would come to place 
his master’s effects on the sidewalk of the respect- 
able Rue St. Dominique. 

Poor Joseph, he was very sad. Why was his mas- 
ter so anxious to go to this baroness — Baroness Gae- 
tana de San Rinazzi ? “I wonder if she is a lady, 
this baroness,” thought the faithful fellow. 

However, she is received in all good society, 
takes part in all social events, parties, balls, even 
funerals and weddings, is often an honored guest ; 
petted by duchesses, and called “ chere belle ” as 


12 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


one of the family. Nevertheless, Joseph did not 
think she was what she pretended to be. One who 
is assured of her social position, is not quite so 
anxious to stand well with every one. 

And de Bressac, Jean Marie Bressac, who was 
always with her. Joseph knew who he was, for he 
came from the same village, but still there was 
excuse for de Bressac, he was an old playfellow of 
his master’s. But the baroness, — “ she is as much 
a baroness as I am,” he muttered to himself, while 
making his master’s bed, and gave an angry shake 
to the pillow as if to emphasize his remark. 


II. 


Raoul de Mercoeur was walking up the long 
avenue of oak trees, part of the old property of 
Madame de Pompadour. He stopped before an 
iron gate, on the other side of which he could hear 
merry laughter. He murmured, “ San Rinazzi ? 
Her name is not recorded in the Almanac de 
Gotha. Well, let it go ! We are now a Republic.” 

While he was ringing the bell, which was partly 
hidden by the foliage, he turned his head, and saw 
two ladies passing, arm-in-arm. One was a tall, 
fair girl in deep mourning, the other, an old lady, 
perhaps her mother. “ What a beautiful girl,” he 
thought. 

The old lady looked at the visitor curiously, but 
the young girl appeared absolutely unconscious. 
He watched, and saw them enter the next villa. 

“ Glad to see you ! ” he heard. He was dazed 
at de Bressac’s voice, who turned toward a lady 
as he spoke. “ Dear Madame, allow me to present 
you my old friend, the Count of Mercoeur.” 

No one in Paris knew exactly who de Bressac 
13 


14 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET . * 


was, still everybody knew him, and he went every- 
where. Always dressed in latest fashion, tall, thin, 
and very bony, with a long mustache, a soft, 
gentle voice, better manners than the sons of the 
oldest families, decided in his opinions, kept his 
own council as to how he lived and who he was. 
Lived at the rate of a hundred thousand francs a 
year, thought to be very rich, but no one knew 
where his property was situated, though his accent 
was southern. 

Very agreeable, always willing to help the ladies 
in organizing fairs, and other charitable works, 
never failed to witness the first night of a new play, 
would ride his friend’s horses at steeple chases, 
(only as an amateur, be it understood), and never 
refused a friend a loan of ten louis. 

Once the Duchess of Roquemont said, “ I don’t 
like his eyes ; they are that bluish green, changing 
with the weather, and restless as though he was 
afraid to look you in the face.” 

For a long time he had been recognized as the 
most intimate acquaintance of the baroness. A 
few indiscreet persons whispered, “ lover.” It was 
still rumored that little Saint-Elme, having said 
something derogatory of her character, de Bressac 
promptly rewarded his audacity with a sword thrust. 


THE PRICE OF. A CORONET. 


15 


In spite of this public denial, a few uninterested 
persons shrugged their shoulders. 

Bressac was of a selfish, cold, calculating dispo- 
sition, hardly likely to fall in love with a woman so 
much older than he was. And if he had fought on 
her account, why it only showed his gallantry, that’s 
all there is to it. The conduct of Madame de San 
Rinazzi was far too circumspect to allow people to 
imagine that there was a lover. She was a widow, 
since she had appeared on the horizon of Parisian 
society. No one had seen the baron, but a mag- 
nificent oil painting graced the salon. There were 
rather too many decorations and orders on his 
breast, he must have been a very brave man, this 
colonel in the Italian army. Her daughter, for she 
acknowledged she had a daughter, a girl of four- 
teen, was being carefully educated by the Urse- 
lines, where only the daughters of the old noblesse 
could gain admittance. Her mother found the 
education was far too worldly at the Sacred Heart, 
and by a special favor had obtained her daughter 
admission at the Urselines. She herself had re- 
sided there during the first two years of her widow- 
hood. 

The baroness lived in the Rue Verneuil, where 
occasionally her footman announced the most dis- 


1 6 the price of a coronet. 

tinguished names in France. In her salon the 
furniture was somber and rich, all gobelin tapestry 
and carved oak. A photograph of the Count de 
Chambord, with his own autograph, in a very rich 
frame, had the place of honor opposite that of her 
husband’s picture ; and over the mantle-piece a 
life-sized portrait of the murdered Bishop of Paris 
inspired respect of the devout. 

When the baroness came from Italy to watch 
her daughter’s education, with true maternal solici- 
tude, she had been introduced to society under the 
auspices of the Duchess de Roquemont. Dame 
Rumor said that the baroness had' assisted the 
ruined duke in marrying the daughter of Midas, 
the millionaire petroleum broker. This calumny 
fell to the ground, and Madame de San Rinazzi’s 
five o’clock teas were a great success. She always 
had a bevy of beautiful girls, and naturally the 
young men were anxious to secure invitations. She 
was extremely particular whom she invited. Bres- 
sac had met the baroness at a charity fair ; such 
a sympathetic person, she was warm-hearted and 
charitable, participating in all the good works, even 
to sending blankets to the Hottentots, etc., etc. 
During the summer the baroness, whose modest 
fortune would not permit her to spend the summer 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


17 


in the whirl of some gay watering place, took a 
small cottage at Bellevue, “ Which my modest 
means permit me to do,” she said. Though she 
acknowledged her daughter was a miss of four- 
teen, her figure was still graceful, always well- 
dressed, and she had a magnificent pair of black 
eyes. Her hands were slender and well kept, per- 
haps too well kept, if anything. 

Mercoeur examined her critically, and thought 
Bressac had nothing to complain of. ‘‘You are 
welcome at my house, Monsieur de Mercoeur,” 
said the baroness smilingly, “ I have asked Monsieur 
de Bressac to bring you often.” 

Mercoeur was one of the few who had been re- 
fractory in accepting the baroness’s invitations to 
the five o’clock teas. 

Raoul had an innate horror of pretensions ; he 
would be friendly with a carter or a gardener, but 
the nobility of the third Republic disgusted him, 
and he felt confident that the baroness’s title only 
dated back to the time she opened her salon on the 
Rue Verneuil. 

Actuated solely by necessity he came to this 
woman’s house, and strove to crush the rising antip- 
athy he felt toward her. He came to her as a last 
resource from a hint given by de Bressac, “ A most 


1 8 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

obliging woman, ‘mon cher,’ perhaps she can sug- 
gest some way to mend your fortune.” 

Mend the fortune of a ruined gentleman ; a gen- 
tleman, whose name could be found in all histories ; 
these words had enlightened Raoul somewhat. 
During the last few years he had seen a good many 
of his friends make their fortunes through a wed- 
ding ring. Roquemont was one of the first ; he 
blamed them severely for bartering their name and 
title, as though it was a piece of furniture. 

Raoul smiled at the baroness’s warm welcome, and 
begged her to excuse his tardiness. De Bressac 
looked charmed. After a few minutes’ laughing 
conversation Madame de San Rinazzi turned to- 
ward de Bressac and said, “ You are so much at 
home here, won’t you order lunch ? ” A real 
country .lunch. The ladies in gay toilettes, the 
men in summer clothes. The table was spread un- 
der a rose arbor, whose fragrant leaves fell on the 
cloth ; the introductions were very unceremonious. 

“Don’t you know the Count de Mercoeur, the 
Marquis of St Leon, Captain Lira, the Viscount 
Poulans, Madame de Leuns, and others.” 

Very fine society, an avalanche of titles, many 
of which had a false ring, though a few were 
genuine. De Bressac was the only untitled person 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 19 

in the gay throng. It would have amused Raoul 
on any other occasion to see how cleverly the 
baroness placed her guests, kept the conversational 
ball rolling, laughing at the jokes of Captain Lira 
and saying, “ Oh, Duchess, Duchess, how could you 
laugh at the simplicity of our service in church this 
morning,” where they had all attended. 

Madame de San Rinazzi had given the place of 
honor on her right hand to Raoul. He felt she 
wanted to captivate him ; she was certainly a fas- 
cinating woman, so innocent and gentle, and her 
style was thoroughly Parisian, and the way she had 
of hesitating in the middle of a phrase, permitted 
him to see her small white teeth. The Duchess of 
Roquemont interrupted their conversation several 
times by saying, “ You quite monopolize the Count 
de Mercoeur’s society.” 

The Duchess of Roquemont had never been able 
to resist the temptation of giving a person's title in 
full. Gaetana de San Rinazzi was cleverer than 
that ; Raoul had not been able to trace the slightest 
vulgarity in either her speech or actions, she was 
perfectly educated, and her manners had that high 
state of polish that only comes from associating 
with thoroughbred people. She was saying when 
interrupted, “ I am extremely sorry you never 


20 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


graced any of our reunions.” Raoul was almost as 
sorry as she pretended to be, and wished that he 
had allowed Bressac to introduce her to him before. 
He began to think it looked strange to eat a meal at 
a person’s house at the first invitation, without ever 
having paid the formal call. 

The luncheon was over, and where laughter had 
been heard now it was all silent. The guests had 
left the table, invited by Bressac, to visit the beau- 
tiful gardens which surrounded the villa. Gaetana 
asked the count to come into the house. 

The drawing-room at Bellevue was far more sim- 
ple in its furnishings than that of Rue de Verneuil ; 
books, draperies, and statuettes helped to furnish 
this bijou room, the pictures of the king and the 
bishop had the same prominent positions, also one 
of his Holiness graced the wall. After the glare of 
the sun outside, the almost mysterious light was 
charming, and a heavy exotic perfume permeated 
the atmosphere. 

“ Is not this a charming room,” asked the baron- 
• ess, “ for a tete-a-tete ? ” 

“Oh ! I think your residence is delightful,” said 
Raoul, as he took her hand and kissed it most re- 
spectfully. And as she handed him a glass of 
Armagnac, she said, “ This comes from Gascony, 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


21 


you ought to relish it.” At her earnest solicitation 
Raoul drank a second glass very slowly, curious to 
hear what she would say next. At the same time, 
he could not help thinking his father’s vineyards 
might have furnished the grapes. Then he laughed 
to himself, and smilingly said to her, “ I have lost 
my vineyards and those of my parents in your 
charming Paris, Madame.” 

Gaetana’s face was a study, she looked so sympa- 
thetic, “ Was it really true that Raoul Pontais, 
Count of Mercoeur, had sold all his patrimony, 
and strangers lived in his chateau?” “No, no! 
Mercoeur is still uninhabited, it was two years ago 
since I sold it, and my agent remitted me the 
money ; he sold the entire property to a foreigner, I 
believe, who, strange to say, never showed up.” 

As if she was really sorry for him, she mur- 
mured, “ Ruined ! ruined ! ruined ! ” Why the 

d 1 had he told this woman he was ruined, but 

he had come to her for advice ; did not Bressac 
say she might help him out ? 

Gaetana had changed her seat, and had placed 
herself by his side, striving to refill his glass. 
Raoul looked at her large dark eyes, and wondered 
how she could help him. There was a very em- 
barrassing silence for a few minutes. Then Raoul 


22 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


gained courage and told her his financial position, 
how he had squandered his capital, the dunning of 
his creditors ; in fact, he was ready to cut his 
throat. The baroness hesitated a minute before 
answering Raoul’s last words ; she looked pensive, 
and finally said, “ When a person has your name 
and title, it is very easy to get over money diffi- 
culties.” Raoul jumped as though he had been 
shot, his teeth chattered. Had he then fallen so 
low that they dared to offer him money for barter- 
ing his name ? 

“ Really, Madame ■” 

She came a little closer to him and spoke so 
softly in her voluptuous voice, “Why was he 
vexed with a friend who wished to be of service to 
him ? Yes, of service ! It might have astonished 
Monsieur de Mercoeur, but Bressac, his old col- 
lege chum, had told her his difficulties, and she 
thought ” 

Mercoeur at once saw her business, he under- 
stood the five o’clock tea, and the number of people 
who had been invited. During the ten years he 
had resided in Paris, he had thrown into the fire a 
great many matrimonial agency cards. Still he 
could not understand how a woman, received in 
the best society of the Faubourg St. Germain, could 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


23 


carry on such a “ metier .” He felt inclined to turn 
on his heel and quit the presence of the Baroness 
de San Rinazzi, and to go right home and order 
Joseph never to admit Bressac, — Bressac, this 
society man, who was no doubt but a middle man 
in the employ of the baroness. 

By this time he did not feel inclined to move, 
what with the perfume of the apartment, and the 
strength of the liquor, he yielded at the request of 
the baroness to talk it over. He was ashamed of 
himself, and listened attentively to the projects of- 
fered by this marriage agent. 

“ Voyons y you are ruined, completely ruined. 
Your only chance is to marry a rich woman. Now 
perhaps I can find you a rich girl, who is anxious 
to wear a coronet. Countess, that looks remark- 
ably well on one’s linen, a coronet with nine points 
is the prettiest of all.’’ The first feelings of pride 
had left Raoul. After all he was the last of his 
race, no one had a right to ask him to account for 
his conduct. He certainly could not consider in 
the light of a family the few antiquities that 
remained in Gascony. There was only his Aunt de 
Lansac to whom he owed any family recognition, 
and since he had quarreled with her, all her pro- 
perty was to go to the hospital at Livone. She 


24 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


was a very devout woman he heard, never missed 
early mass, and attired herself as near like a nun as 
she could. Pouah ! He hated the country, with 
its prejudices and narrow mindedness, he would 
never go back. Never ! 

Besides, the woman he married would never 
know that he bartered his title for her gold. The 
marriage accomplished, the commission paid, he 
would forever close his doors to Gaetana and Bres- 
sac, “ Why, he would be generous and pay them a 
large commission.” 

“ Well, Madame, I accept your proposition ; find 
me a rich wife and I shall be very grateful and pay 
you handsomely.” 

“ Hclas ! Monsieur, my modest fortune obliges 
me to receive some pecuniary recompense, were it 
otherwise I never would desire any payment.” 

Then she began to talk of a charming young 
girl, well educated, extremely pretty, living with 
her widowed mother. “ It’s really the mother who 
requested me to try and find a husband for the 
young lady.” 

“ Have you been acquainted with them a long 
time ? ” 

“Only since the death of the father, who was a 
large manufacturer ; the girl is fair and tall.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 25 

“ Ah ! neighbors ; perhaps I met them this 
morning.” 

“ Really ; have you already met them ? What a 
curious thing chance is. Doubtless they were 
coming from mass.” The baroness pretended to 
be perfectly astonished. 

“Well ! You see the girl is pretty enough for a 
prince, and such a magnificent fortune, more than a 
million. Half of it is hers to do as she pleases 
with on her wedding day. The mother’s health is 
poor. You will be a millionaire before long, 
Monsieur.” 

“ Are you quite sure her dowry is over five hun- 
dred thousand ? ” 

“ Yes ! Why ? ” 

“ Because it is not the amount that interests me 
individually, only I suppose out of my future wife’s 
dowry I will have to pay your commission.” 

“Oh, no; do not let that bother you. Just 
give us your note for three hundred thousand, 
which we are obliged to charge as commission. The 
rest of the fortune belongs to you.” Seeing that 
Raoul shuddered, she hastened to say, “ You need 
not pay us in a lump sum ; little by little, we 
would not inconvenience you for the world.” At 
that moment the sound of a piano was heard. 


26 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


“ Your future bride, mon cher, she is a remarkably 
fine musician.” 

The young girl was playing one of Schubert’s 
Nocturnes. Raoul remembered the piece, his 
mother used to play it at Mercoeur Sur Baise, when 
he was a child. 

“No! No! No !” he cried. “ A marriage ar- 
ranged like this is infamous ! ” 

The baroness replied : 

“ You would prefer, perhaps, being arrested for 
debt. In eight days you would beg of me to find 
you a wife. It will be too late then. The Count 
of Mercoeur, arrested for debt and a bankrupt, 
never could hope to marry Jeanne Berthout, the 
daughter and heiress of a respectable manufacturer.” 

Raoul was silenced. Gaetana arose and walked 
over to her desk for a pen and sheet of stamped 
paper. 

“ Now, Monsieur, let us finish this trivial affair, 
write what I tell you ; you will be grateful to me 
some day.” 

“ /, the U7ider signed, Raoul Pontais, Count of Mer- 
coeur y promise on my honor , to give to the Baroness 
San Ranazziy the sum of three himdred thousand 
francs out of the dowry of Mademoiselle Jeanne 
Berthouty if in one year from now, this lady becomes 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


27 


my wife through the mediation of Madame San Ra?i- 
azzi." 

“ That is all right, now sign it and put your ad- 
dress, 54 Rue St. Dominique. It is always better 
to do things in a business-like way, we are only 
mortals.” 

“ But as this is a business affair, what guarantee 
have you that I should pay the above note ? Indi- 
vidually I have not a cent.” 

“ Your word as a gentleman is sufficient, my dear 
sir.” 

“ What a magnificent day, the end of spring,” cried 
Bressac, as he opened the door of the salon ; behind 
. him came the guests, laughing, with their arms full 
of flowers. 

Raoul had written with a very trembling hand, and 
as he cast his eager eyes on the paper held by ma- 
dame, who carefully read it, smiling as she saw the 
glance he gave on his dishonored signature, she 
took good care to lock it up in her steel escritoire. 

“ How unkind of you to have left us alone,” 
said the Duchess of Roquemont to the baroness. 

“I had a bad headache.” 

“Oh, yes, and as a nurse I suppose you selected 
the Count de Mercoeur ; allow me to congratulate 


28 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 


Raoul felt feverish and wretched, and paid no at- 
tention to the duchess, nor did he return Bressac’s 
hand shake ; he was in a hurry to leave, to quit the 
society where everything was assumed, and he him- 
self was obliged to be. He invented an invitation 
to dine in Paris. 

“ What, are you going so soon to leave us ? ” 

“ I am obliged, Madame, unfortunately.” 

“ Now you know the way to the house I hope you 
won’t forget us. I spend the entire summer here,” 
and she bowed her adieus in a most dignified way. 

Raoul hurried to the railroad station, trying hard 
to repress the word, “canaille,” which escaped 
from his lips. 

It was in the hands of this “ canaille,” that he 
placed his reputation, “ Pardieu.” He guessed 
why the Roquemonts were always at her house, 
evidently the duke had not paid all the commissions 
due yet. And Bressac, what r61e was he playing ? 
Was he an unconscious intermediary, or paid em- 
ployee ? Bressac was not unconscious ! With his 
cleverness and sagacity, no. He must profit by 
these nefarious negotiations, perhaps a partner of 
Gaetana’s, he noticed she often said “ We.” 

“ This man whom I called my friend, a college 
chum, is he only a scoundrel, a blackleg ? But 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


29 


am I myself any better than Bressac ? What evil 
genius has taken hold of me this morning ! ” 

When he reached his chambers, Joseph had bad 
news for him. They were going to summon him 
through the sheriff, on the following day, for non- 
payment of rent. 

“ No, after all, Bressac had acted the good 
friend; this marriage will be my salvation,” and the 
names of many of his friends came into his mind, 
who had been married in the same way. Roque- 
mont, Lastignac, Montbrun, Marsies, and many 
others, whose names and families were as good as 
his own. 

“ Pardieu /” The old instincts were not dead 
within him yet ; he remembered his parents, so 
straightforward, so upright ; then Aunt Economy, 
whose strictness and honesty was proverbial in 
Gascony. His father’s bravery and nobility came 
back to him as he remembered how he fell at 
Patay. 

Joseph was saying, “I do not know what I can 
tell them, and when I think the sheriff’s officer will 
be here to-morrow, — they are almost here now.” 
Raoul straightened himself up and said harshly, 
“ You go to the landlord, and as you do not know 
what else you can say to him, say this, ‘ I will 


3 ° THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

surely pay you before the end of the month, along 
with the rest of my creditors.’ ” It was a miserable 
evening for Raoul, and he dined alone. 

At Bellevue, Bressac and Gaetana only exchanged 
a few words. 

“ How goes it ? ” 

“He put on airs, but 
toils.” 


we have him fast in our 


III. 


Mademoiselle Jeanne Berthout was the only 
child of a rich manufacturer, lately deceased. 
Jeanne’s father had, like many others, worked him- 
self up, having been foreman in the works he owned 
when he died. He had married the daughter of the 
proprietor, and had the pleasure of seeing on his 
wedding day, “Jean Berthout and Company” on 
the letter heads and over the doors of the huge fac- 
tory. An entirely commercial marriage, no love on 
either side to distinguish it from the usual bour- 
geoise marriage, where the chief foreman usually 
marries one of the daughters. 

Love, love ! he never thought of that, nor was 
it considered a necessary appendage to marriage. 
Where could he find time to make love. Plenty of 
orders, adding up bills and ordering workmen, and 
trying to prevent them from joining trades unions 
took up all his time. 

He read his wife’s disposition thoroughly in a 
month, and saw she was a good little Parisian, fond 
of bon-bons and dress, and spent her afternoons 


3i 


3 2 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


shopping. Nothing pleased her better than a Sun- 
day spent in the country. She selected Sunday for 
her reception day, as her husband’s business friends 
and their wives could grace her salon on that day. 
When the child was born it almost caused a quar- 
rel ; the mother wanted to play with it as a doll, to 
her husband’s disgust, and he determinedly declared 
that the child was a human being, and he would 
have her educated as such, and he had a paternal 
right to direct the manner in which she was to be 
brought up. 

“ You .have your friends to entertain, shopping 
to do, balls and receptions to attend ; you cannot 
take a child to all those places, even though she is 
dressed like an idol.” 

Madame Berthout did not object to giving up her 
daughter’s education to her husband, and when she 
would speak of him to her friends it was to say : 

“ He is a good fellow ; he makes an excellent 
nurse.” 

We will leave Madame Berthout to her acquaint- 
ances. Monsieur Berthout had ordered the nurse 
to take the child for an airing every day in front of 
the workshop, and would often leave his desk and 
office to snatch a kiss from her rosebud lips. One 
day, when his wife came in unexpectedly, she went 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 


33 


over to kiss Jeanne, saying, “My pet, I have not 
seen her since this morning.’' Her husband said, 
“ Hush, she is asleep now ; wait till she wakes up.” 
Nothing was allowed to disturb Jeanne’s repose. 
Her father directed her life automatically, and it 
was on his knees she first learned her “A B C’s.” 
When she reached her teens, her father’s study was 
the only place she learned her lessons, and often 
asked his assistance to solve some problem. Noth- 
ing delighted her more than to be able to coax him 
to leave his business for a few hours, and one day 
he asked her if she liked to go to an exhibition of 
machinery. She replied joyously, “Father, I am 
happy with you anywhere.” Her mother declined 
to go (as she had to go to a reception of a friend), 
so Jeanne and her father went alone. He had 
taught her the use of all the machinery used in his 
business, pointed out which was the best workman, 
and she was as delighted as he when he bought a 
new machine. She was so proud on her fifteenth 
birthday to receive a steel jewel case, marked with 
gold letters : 

“ A present from her father’s workmen, and made 
in his shop.” 

One day she came to the office where he was 
talking with his lawyer, who hesitated to speak 


34 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


before the young lady. “ Continue your conver- 
sation,” Jean Berthout said, “my daughter is my 
partner.” 

This happy state of affairs was interrupted in 
consequence of a severe physical and mental strain. 
Jean Berthout contracted some heart trouble. 
Menaced by aneurism of one of the arteries, he 
felt death was close at hand ; he had one last wish, 
which he worked with almost gigantic force to 
achieve. He trebled his business, *so that Jeanne 
might be a millionaire. 

Often she would beg of him to desist from his 
labors, and forcibly take him from his office, long 
after midnight. 

The desired million was soon earned, which he 
invested in Government bonds ; then there was the 
business, the factories, the house and furniture, all 
for Jeanne. Too late he consented to rest ; his 
last effort broke the silver cord. He died suddenly 
in his foundry. 

Jeanne was utterly prostrated ; her tears never 
ceased to flow until the day of the funeral ; 
her only consolation were the words “ Father, 
father.” 

The pomp and ceremony disgusted her ; the 
crowd at the church and cemetery dazed her ; it 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 35 

was raining, everything was wet and damp. The 
priests were in a hurry to get the body in the 
ground ; the sympathies and caresses of friends fell 
on her ears with a far-off sound. 

When she returned home, her mother immedi- 
ately gave orders to the servants to open the shut- 
ters and clear all the funeral flowers out, light fires, 
and make the house look cheerful. To hear her 
mother talk this way was a terrible shock to Jeanne, 
and she ran to her own room crying. Her mother 
came after her, and said, in a peevish tone, “My 
child, I can't allow you to stay here in all your wet 
clothes until evening. Why, you will grieve your- 
self to death.” She let her mother’s maid take her 
bonnet and crape shawl without paying the slight- 
est attention to them. Her grief completely pros- 
trated her. 

A few days afterward Madame Berthout brought 
a paper for her to sign. 

“ What is it for, mother ? ” 

“I am going to sell the factory.” 

She never supposed her mother would sell the 
factory which her father’s industry had built. 
“ Why cannot we keep it ? It is a part of my 
dowry.” Her mother looked at the girl with 
astonishment. 


36 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

“ Are you crazy ? Keep the factory ? I suppose 
you would like to run it — you have your father’s 
ideas. To keep the factory you would have to 
marry a mechanic. With your fortune you cer- 
tainly ought to marry some one better than a work- 
man.” 

“ I will do what you like, mother ; but the 
house ! ” 

“ The house and factory will all be sold together. 
I have made all necessary arrangements ; the only 
thing required is your signature, on account of the 
peculiar way your father made his will.” 

“Very well, mother ! ” 

After the house and factory had been sold 
Madame Berthout found herself in possession of 
fifteen hundred thousand francs in cash. She 
hastened to leave the Marais, this bourgeois neigh- 
borhood, and bought a magnificent house in the 
Faubourg St. Honore. 

Her mourning was the richest money could buy, 
one mass of crape ; she wore it the regulation time. 
The only regret she had was, that her daughter 
had not been educated in a fashionable boarding 
school, but on that subject her husband had been 
inflexible. Jeanne had never been in a school in 
her life. Her father had been her sole instructor, 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


37 


and she had no young friends or confidantes to 
whom she could open her heart. 

Madame Berthout, intoxicated by the change in 
her social position, did nothing but talk of her 
money and the property she owned — her villa at 
Bellevue. At last she was mistress of her own 
house, and could dress her servants in black livery 
now. By and by it would be blue and gold, with 
her initials on their buttons ! 

Jeanne still lived in the memory of the past, 
never thinking of interrupting her mother in her 
present pastime of furnishing houses and buying 
carriages, though she certainly was shocked, 
three months after her father’s death, for her 
mother to say to her, “ Jeanne, I have de- 
cided to make Thursday my reception day. 
Sunday was good enough for the Marais ! but 
here.” 

“ Receive visitors so soon, mother ? ” 

“ God knows I loved your father, but sorrow is 
not everlasting, and it is not by shutting you up I 
shall ever find you a husband ! ” 

“ Me a husband ? There is plenty of time ! ” 
“No, there is not. You are twenty-one years 
old, and pretty, though I say it ; and think what a 
dowry you have ! I do not think there is another 


38 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


girl in the Faubourg that has such a marriage por- 
tion as yours.” 

This was herm other’s fond dream ; and Madame 
Berthout was anxious to have a titled son-in-law, so 
that she could say to her servants, in speaking of 
her daughter, “ Madame la Comtesse,” or “ Madame 
la Marquise”; or, even better than that, she might 
talk to her friends at her Thursday receptions, “ My 
son-in-law, the duke.” Fancy the delight in order- 
ing in the shops, where she used to trade, a trous- 
seau for her daughter, with a coronet, and a carriage 
with amorial bearings on its panels. 

Her daughter ought not to live as a bourgeoise ; 
it was quite enough that she had been obliged by 
her father to marry his foreman, — but her daugh- 
ter, oh, no ! 

Two years rolled on this way, during which 
Jeanne seemed to feel a greater void in her exist- 
ence ; timid confidences hesitated on her lips when 
she would speak to her mother, whose sole pleas- 
ure was going to balls and parties ; and when 
Jeanne would try to talk to her, all the mother 
would converse about was the Charity Fair of the 
Duchess Rochefoucauld or the ball of the Prin- 
cess of Sagan. The newspapers were full of these 
things. 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


39 


“By and by, my child, you will be an honored 
guest at these parties, and be called ‘ La Belle 

Marquise de ,’ no, countess, — I like the name 

countess better, it seems more dignified.” 

Whether it was a prince or a baker, Jeanne began 
to think she would like a husband ; a man whose in- 
telligence she could rely upon, and whose character 
would be as upright as that of her father ! a mas- 
ter whom she could admire and trust. 


IV. 


Madame Berthout met the Baroness Gaetana 
San Rinazzi at a fair which was given for the bene- 
fit of the poor. It was necessary for furthering of 
her profession that the baroness should be seen 
everywhere. She did not care what the charity 
was called, or in whose behalf it was ; all she asked 
for was some plausible story to solicit from the 
benevolent. 

She knew exactly how much sympathy to excite 
for the object of her solicitude, and accompanied 
her profuse thanks with a smile and some well- 
turned phrase, such as, “ In the interests of the un- 
fortunates I beg for, I thank you, and whose suffer- 
ings I knew would touch your kind heart.” When 
about to leave she was often requested to prolong 
her charitable call into a social visit. Was she not 
the celebrated Madame San Rinazzi, whose five 
o’clock teas were the talk of the Faubourg, and 
whose name was mentioned in the fashionable jour- 
nals as a paragon of virtue and charity? When 
asked if she was that lady, she would diffidently 
reply in the affirmative, “I am the person mentioned 
40 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


41 


so kindly in the papers, Madame, but my reunions 
are not fashionable ; simply a few young girls who 
come to eat plum cake and gossip about 1 chiffons,’ 
but if you would honor me by your presence I 
should be flattered.” 

On her return home she would gleefully rub her 
hands and exclaim, “ Another 'good day’s work ; 
seed planted for a great many more marriages.” 
Her tact was simply marvelous, and all her business 
transactions were with gentlemen only ; women, she 
would say, gossiped, and might give the character 
of her profession away. Men would be discreet for 
their own sakes ; no man likes to think he sold him- 
self. Bressac was her assistant, and he gained all 
the necessary information regarding the social 
status of the titled beggars whom she angled for. 
These kind of fish are plentiful in Paris. 

When a fond mother would whisper to her confi- 
dentially at some social gathering, “ I wish I could 
marry my Emelie or my Claretta,” the baroness, 
desirous of pleasing her friend, would offer to intro- 
duce some gentleman, saying before she did, 
“Monsieur Le Comte X. Y. Z., or Monsieur le 
Marquis de Carribas is of a very old family, his 
title is genuine, and your sweet daughter has enough 
fortune for both.” 


42 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


By these means the baroness was an honored 
guest in many households, and could a gentleman 
refuse to invite a lady, who had been the means of 
finding him a charming wife and a good dowry, to 
his house ; it would appear ungrateful. 

Jeanne had been invited to accompany her 
mother to assist at an entertainment gotten up by 
the baroness on behalf of the Magdalenes, a char- 
itable society. 

She did not like the mysterious surroundings of 
the baroness, these whispered confidences and dis- 
cussions, half religious and half worldly. “ Mother, 
I do not like that woman,” she said, when she re- 
turned home, “ you ought not to have accepted her 
invitation.” 

“ Well ! you certainly have not a grain of com- 
mon sense. You are exactly like your father ; no 
manners — not like Madame San Rinazzi indeed, a 
delightful woman; she is received everywhere, and 
you meet the nicest people at her house. Only gen- 
tlemen, she would not encourage workmen as your 
father did.” 

It was just this that did shock Jeanne. There were 
too many gentlemen. 

“Besides, my daughter, when you know her 
better you will think otherwise. We shall see a 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 43 

great deal of her this summer, as our cottages 
adjoin.” 

It was at Bellevue where Jeanne met Bressac one 
morning very early. She liked to rise with the 
lark, and to breathe the fresh air before the sun was 
up. Bressac, the son of a peasant, had never given 
up his habit of early rising, and was often out at 
daybreak, and would sometimes walk out from 
Paris, reaching his friend’s villa, even before the 
servants were up, and not to awaken them, he 
would continue his promenade. 

He raised his hat to Jeanne, saying, “A lovely 
morning, Mademoiselle.” 

She had forgotten who he was, when he recalled 
himself to her memory as having had the honor of 
being introduced to her at the salon of Madame 
San Rinazzi. She curtly wished him “ Good- 
morning.” 

Bressac turned round and looked after her. 
“ She’s clumsy, but she has a fine head of hair, and 
if only attired properly, why we might make her a 
countess.” 

At breakfast he said to Gaetana. 

“I have found a husband for your neighbor.” 

“ Of the old nobility ? ” 

“ Yes ; his coronet is for sale ? ” 


44 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


“ Bring him here ‘Sunday.” 

Mercoeur came and went away, and came again. 
A few Sundays after, in the miserable white- 
washed village church at Bellevue, Raoul found 
himself seated with the baroness, who, with several 
friends, would not have missed mass on Sunday ; 
though in Paris they never rose till lunch time, but 
here in the country it was different, and it seemed 
to have a special charm for the baroness to gather 
some friends about her and fill the church. On 
this Sunday, when the clanging bell announced it 
was church time* the Duchess de Roquemont 
said : 

“ Well, we must go to the little church to-day.” 

While Mercoeur was looking at the gay toilettes 
of these Parisiennes, and the difference between 
them and the peasants, the priest commenced a 
sermon ; not a real sermon, but a kind of gossip 
where he published the bans of marriage and 
announced the holy days of the ensuing week, and 
wound up with a few words from the Holy Father. 

Then the priest asked for generous donations. 

“Brethren, be generous, we need money to com- 
bat with the Evil One, let the collection be bounti- 
ful.” 

Two seats ahead of Raoul, he heard a discussion. 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 45 

It was Jeanne saying to her mother, “ I don’t like 
to, mother, really I don’t.” 

“My child, my child, I promised you should 
take up the collection.” Madame Berthout almost 
forced her daughter to rise, and placed in her hands 
the large red velvet pouch with the gold handle. 
Jeanne looked up and saw in front of her a tall, 
dark young man, and heard Madame la Baronesse 
whisper, “ My dear, the Count of Mercoeur will ac- 
company you.” 

It was for this reason, then, that Gaetana had 
stopped on her way to church at their house, and 
looked over her toilette carefully, saying, “ Jeanne, 
put a little powder on your face, you have too much 
color.” 

So this was the man that was destined for her. 

Well ! she was glad it was settled, as he appeared 
quite a nice young man, much better than many of 
the others that frequented the baroness’s villa. 
Nice dark eyes, well-penciled brows, and dark 
mustache. He was walking by her side, she had 
to hold his hand, which trembled in hers. It was 
warm. 

The Duchess de Roquemont laughed in the 
open pages of her breviary, and said in an under- 
tone to her husband, “ She is not bad looking, this 


46 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

little bourgeoise.” Jeanne was highly embarrassed 
as she felt all eyes were directed to her. The col- 
lection was good. When it was over they had to 
go into the sacristy ; it was a pleasant moment for 
both. The money was turned out on the table, the 
sound of prayers mingled curiously with the clink 
of the money, — they were afraid to speak to each 
other. Raoul was utterly astonished not to find 
any assumed modesty or shyness in this young girl. 
She had made the collection, subject to her 
mother’s wish, and now she was waiting to hand 
the money, when it was counted, to the priest. 
Raoul said to her : 

“ Mademoiselle, I have not put anything in 
"the collection ; will you allow me to offer my 
mite ? ” 

“ You had better give it to the poor yourself, I 
think it is better.” 

“ Do you disdain such a monotonous work as 
you have been engaged in ? ” 

“ I do not like to mix money with religion, sir ? ” 

“ The cure thought more of the political situa- 
tion than the charitable one to my mind.” Was it 
a lesson this young girl was trying to teach him, 
thought Raoul. No. She spoke very seriously ; a 
matter-of-fact statement, as if she believed it. 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 47 

Raoul tried to place the curious impression this 
plebeian girl had made on him. 

“ Why did you take up the collection, Mademoi- 
selle, if it was distasteful to you ? ” 

“ Sir, a young girl is not her own mistress. I 
obeyed my mother.” 

“ Then, if your inclinations had been consulted 
you would have probably refused me for your es- 
cort.” 

“ I did not say that.” 

During the silence that ensued, the notes of the 
organ could be heard, and Raoul took the oppor- 
tunity of considering the appearance of this girl 
that he was to buy with three hundred thousand 
francs of her own money. 

She was tall and fair, and, as Bressac had re- 
marked, rather heavy limbed ; she had reddish 
brown hair ; bluish gray eyes, with heavy black 
lashes ; honest, straightforward eyes, that looked 
you squarely in the face. Her very appearance 
indicated the strength of her character, and this 
gentleman, who was not lost to all sense of feeling, 
felt the delicacy of his situation. 

Ruined, at the end of his resources, he must be 
obliged to sell his name and title. He had ex- 
pected to find a flighty, insignificant girl, intoxi- 


48 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


cated with the idea of her being a countess, and 
whose greatest pleasure would be shopping ; but 
here was a girl who might fall in love with him, 
Raoul thought, but she certainly would not fall in 
love with his coronet. 

Who, then, was the girl that had been bewitched 
by his rank ? 

Gaetana told him, “ You are a count ; that is 
worth a fortune to you.” 

Raoul said to Jeanne, “ Have you any brothers 
and sisters ? ” 

“ No ! there is only my mother and myself ; my 
father died two years ago. He was my only 
friend.” Raoul looked to see if there were any 
tears in her eyes, as he himself recalled the battle 
fields of Patay, and the sorrow it brought him. 

Jeanne’s face was sorrowful, but no sign of a 
tear, as she asked him, “ Have you any family ? ” 

“No ; I am an orphan.” 

“ That is a great misfortune ; but when you 
loved those who are gone, very dearly, their 
memory is always vivid in your heart ; in fact, you 
might imagine they are always with you, to counsel 
you in the difficult situations of life.” 

Raoul’s face became pallid. “ Your father was a 
great manufacturer, was he not ? ” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 49 

“ My father had been my grandfather’s foreman ; 
after a while, when the business enlarged, he was 
taken into the firm ; at my grandfather’s death he 
became sole owner. Poor father, how hard he 
worked ! ” 

“ You must have loved him very dearly ? ” 

“Indeed, I did,” replied Jeanne he was my 
only guide and companion.” 

Jeanne began to talk to Raoul, who had discov- 
ered, unintentionally, the road to her heart, by 
talking to her of her father. 

He began to guess the history of her life. Her 
deceased father was evidently an upright, truth- 
ful man (such are necessary to prevent the world 
being composed entirely of liars) and had brought 
up his daughter with a horror for everything which 
was not straightforward and honorable. His own 
father and mother had tried to instill these princi- 
ples into him too — and was he going to forget all 
feelings of honor in deceiving this young girl? 
He despised the idiocy of the mother, who would 
rather give a title to her daughter with a roue \ 
than the love and protection of an honest man. 

For the first time he regretted all the follies 
of his life ; the fortune he lost on the green table ; 
and the hours that he wasted in the boudoir of 


5 ° THE PRICE OF A CORONET \ 

some courtesan. He felt humiliated at the retro- 
spection. Why had not chance permitted him 
to meet Jeanne and honorably woo her, instead 
of meeting her through the intermediary of a 
brokeress ? 

He was furious when he thought of the note 
he had written eight days before. The want of 
money and his lack of it was like a nightmare. 
The promises he had made his creditors, — suppos- 
ing he failed to keep his promises, they would 
expose him, and therefore he was obliged to con- 
tinue the role he had commenced. 

Mass was out ; the baroness and her friends 
entered the sacristy ; one of them said to Jeanne, 
“ What, twenty-six francs ! why, that is a superb 
collection for this poor church. Superb, M. le 
Cur£. I don’t suppose you ever had so much in 
one collection, did you ? ” 

“ No, ladies, and I thank the young lady who 
passed the alms basket ; also the gentleman who 
aided her.” 

Madame Berthout was radiant ; so proud to hear 
her daughter complimented by a duchess. Captain 
Lira offered his arm to the worthy woman ; his 
rosetted buttonhole had quite captivated her. 

Gaetana had so arranged the company that 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 


51 


Raoul and Jeanne walked together. Jeanne quite 
understood the program. Lunch was served at the 
baroness’s villa on the terrace. Raoul and Jeanne 
found themselves seated side by side. They were 
rather embarrassed, feeling unable to continue the 
conversation begun in the sacristy before this gay 
throng, who were discussing the respective merits 
of two famous actresses. 

After a while the talking ceased. The baroness 
suggested a promenade in the woods, and, turning 
toward Raoul, said, sotto voce , “ Everything is work- 
ing admirably. The mother thinks you are delight- 
ful, — offer her your arm, and your conquest will be 
achieved when the walk is finished.” 

Raoul did not reply, but when they reached the 
entrance to the woods Bressac saw him take his hat 
off and wish the party good-evening. He walked 
toward the count quickly. 

“ What does this mean, are you crazy ?” 

“ Perhaps.” 

“ Where are you going ? ” 

“ I intend returning to Paris.” 

“ Without saying adieu to the party ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ But you are invited to dinner.” 

“ I can’t stay.” 


52 THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 

“ Have you a love affair on hand ? ” 

“ No ; but I shall never come here again.” 

“Why not?” 

“ I am ashamed of myself. To save my life at 
the cost of reputation? Never ! ” 

Bressac looked at his friend a moment quizzi- 
cally. Then he burst out laughing, a harsh, dry 
laugh, very dramatic, but not original. You will 
find its counterpart in the third act of “ Faust.” 

“ Feliciie du del ? ah, fuyons.” 

“ I have to serve my Mephistopheles , — so must 
you.” 

He brought Raoul back triumphantly, despising 
him in his own heart for being so weak. Raoul 
joined Jeanne, and began talking about the beauti- 
ful weather. The sun was gilding the roof of the 
pavilion, and the singing of the birds could be 
heard in every direction. 

Jeanne said to him, “I was very egotistical this 
morning, talking of myself and father. I never 
asked about your parents.” 

He told her his history and his childhood. He 
spoke of his beautiful country, and his father and 
mother. “And I had to sell their home, through 
my extravagance.” Through innate delicacy of 
feeling he refrained from saying chateau. 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


53 


“ How old were you when you lost your father ? ” 

“ Twenty-two.” 

“ During the war ? ” 

“ He fell at my side.” 

What made these two young people ask each 
other such personal questions, was it chance ? 

Behind them Captain Lira and the baroness 
were eulogizing the count to Madame Berthout. 

“ What a charming man the Count de Mercoeur 
is ? ” 

“ So intellectual.” 

“ And one of the oldest families in France.” 

It was the Duchess of Roquemont who spoke of 
old families. She sprung from the gutter. 


V. 


That Sunday evening Madame Berthout said to . 
her daughter, “You must surely see we were not 
entirely in place among all the titled guests at the 
baroness’s to-day.” Jeanne did not make any re- 
ply, but thought to herself, “What business had 
Raoul there, he was'so superior to the rest. Why 
do I feel nervous when I speak to him ? I am sure 
he never said one word about love to me.” But she 
quite comprehended he was there to court her. 

She could not be mistaken ; the collection at the 
church, he was there to help her ; then the baroness 
took care that they should be together all day. 
What a pity he was a nobleman ; she would have 
preferred a person of her own rank. In saying 
good-night to her mother, she was asked, “ Do you 
like the young count ? Is he agreeable to you ? ” 

“ Very, mother.” 

“ Would you marry him ? ” 

Jeanne blushed, and replied, “ Not yet.” 

The following day Madame Berthout called on 
the baroness and thanked her. “ My dear friend, 
54 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


55 


I am extremely indebted to you ; I do not know 
how to thank you.” 

“ I am very glad I was able to be of some use to 
you,” said the baroness, with a smile. 

Two days afterward Raoul went to call on the 
baroness. She asked him to walk with her around 
the garden. She heard footsteps on the gravel 
walk of the adjoining house, and surmised that 
Jeanne was there ; poor Jeanne, who was walking Op 
the path. The baroness called her. The young 
girl’s head could be seen over the hedge. Gaetana 
began to talk with Madame Berthout, and invited 
her to come into the house, and left the young peo- 
ple to converse with each other over the fence. 
Jeanne and Raoul were very pleased to meet and 
feel they were alone, not watched by a crowd of 
friends, and without the presence of Bressac. 

“ Is Bressac your friend ? ” 

“A friend from my childhood, Mademoiselle. 
Why do you ask me ? ” 

Jeanne answered, “I don’t like him. You may 
think me very peculiar but there is something in his 
eyes I distrust.” 

The antipathy Jeanne felt for Bressac, Raoul 
felt toward Gaetana. 

Their conversation became very friendly, and the 


5 6 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

count made up his mind to ask the baroness to 
return him his note. 

Was it not a dishonorable thing, this marriage, 
wherein he had purchased the right to own the 
girl; and now he was in love with her ? It was to be 
a love match after all. 

Jeanne, in allowing this new affection to pene- 
trate her heart, did not follow any suggestions ex- 
cept those made by her in her consciousness, and 
she thought if her father had been alive, he would 
have said, “You can love M. de Mercoeur, he is 
an honorable man.” 

The lack of affection she had felt for the past 
two years was now obliterated. There was one 
thing that astonished Jeanne, — it was the facility 
with which her mother threw the house open to the 
young count. “ It looked, though, as if she wanted 
to throw me at his head ; but I will not let her.” 

Frankly, Madame Berthout could not be pru- 
dent when she was realizing all her most ambitious 
hopes. She could not open her mouth without 
mentioning the count, — his family and ancestry. 
She might be the mother-in-law of a man who was 
descended from the warriors who fought at the 
battle of Crecy. 

In spite of all indications and calculations, it was 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 57 

a shock to her the day Raoul asked Jeanne in mar- 
riage, saying, “ I love your daughter, Madame, and 
with your permission I will make her my wife.” 

Her daughter a countess ! Countess of Mer- 
coeur ! She wished she could change her name 
into “ Mother of a Countess ! ” 

“ The whole trousseau should have a coronet 
embroidered on each piece.” 

“ Mother, that would be ridiculous ! ” 

“ Ridiculous, the coronet of a countess ; that will 
never be ridiculous ! My children, will you allow 
me to live with you ? ” 

“We shall be delighted, Madame.” 

While the old lady was buying linen and lace, 
the lovers were talking of the future. Occasion- 
ally Raoul would think of the ignominious role 
he played, and hardly replied to Jeanne’s ques- 
tions. Sweetly she would say when noticing his 
silence : 

“ Are you thinking of your parents and wishing 
they were here to see your happiness ? ” 

“ Yes, Jeanne ; yes.” 

“ I am sorry I never knew them, but you must 
have some relatives left.” “ Will you take me to 
see them ? ” 

“ That is ” then he thought of Aunt de 


5 8 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

Lansac and hesitated, “ I am not on good terms 
with some of them ! ” 

“ You must be reconciled ; our marriage must be 
pleasure, not sorrow.” 

One day while shopping in the Maison Blanc 
where Raoul had accompanied her, Jeanne picked 
up a card which laid on the counter. After read- 
ing it she tore it in half. 

“ What was that ? ” asked Mercoeur. 

“ The advertising card of a marriage agency, 
where broken down gentlemen could find wives.” 
Raoul made her no answer, and she continued, 
“ Don’t you think it awful for a young girl to be 
married that way, like a lamb led to the slaughter, 
without being aware of it and the cupidity of 
man ? ” 

“Yes, Jeanne; what makes you think of such 
dreadful things?” The word infamous he could 
not utter. 

Raoul’s creditors patiently consented to wait his 
convenience, as they had seen in one of the society 
papers the announcement of his approaching 
marriage. 

Bressac was thoughtful enough to send the fol- 
lowing society note : 

“ In a month there will be a grand wedding at St. 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


59 


Philip's. M. Le Comte de Mercoeur , who is the last 
of his family , will wed Mademoiselle feanne Berth- 
out , the daughter of the late millionaire , Jean Berth- 
out , who was one of Paris' celebrated manufactur- 
ers. The future Countess of Mercoeur , we hear , is 
very charming as well as beautiful." 

When Madame Berthout read this paragraph she 
fell into her daughter’s arms, crying for joy, while 
the word “ countess ” seemed to ring in her ears. 


VI. 


Three weeks before his marriage, Raoul, at the 
request of Jeanne, wrote Mademoiselle de Lansac 
a long letter, in which he asked her to forgive his 
neglect and foolishness, and at the same time an- 
nounced his approaching marriage with a most 
charming and wealthy young woman. 

The old lady showed the letter to her confidante, 
Vidame de Lontras, one evening during a game of 
piquet. 

“ What could I do at the marriage of Mademoi- 
selle Berthout? ” 

The Vidame at first approved of the old lady’s 
intention of staying away ; the Countess de Lansac 
could not sign as a witness the marriage certificate 
of such a miserable mesalliance. 

“Still, it was unkind to let Raoul be married with- 
out the presence of some friend or relative ; besides 
you would be wretched here on his wedding day, 
my dear.” 

“ I could have a mass said from the parish 
church.” 


60 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET , 61 

“ Bah ! and have him married in the presence of 
strangers, without any kinsfolk to witness the tying 
of the nuptial knot.” 

“ Let us continue our game, Vidame, you are too 
sympathetic.” 

That night the Countess de Lansac could not 
sleep very well, thinking that her only sister’s son 
would be married without her presence or her 
blessing. 

She arose early, in order that her maid might 
pack her best dresses, and sent word to her two 
nephews, Gaston de Combat and Louis de Lansac. 
When they answered her summons, she said : 

“ My dear boys, we will all go to our cousin Ra- 
uol’s wedding as he requests us. Get your trunks 
packed to-day, as I wish to start before I change 
my mind.” 

Aunt Economy was met at the Orleans station 
by Raoul’s fiancee. Before kissing the girl she 
critically examined her appearance, astonished to 
see such a wealthy young woman so plainly dressed 
in black. The readiness with which Jeanne re- 
lieved her of all her parcels delighted her. She 
was also very favorably impressed with the modest 
way Jeanne addressed her, saying : 

“ Bonjour, Madame /” 


6 2 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


She took Jeanne’s hands and kissed her on both 
cheeks, saying, “ Kiss me, little one, and call me 
aunt, as Raoul does.” 

In the carriage, while driving to the house, the 
two young men were evidently afraid to talk, so 
the old lady confined her conversation to Jeanne 
alone, who apologized for her mother’s absence. 

“You will pardon my mother in not coming to 
meet you at the depot, but she had to stay at home 
to receive some friends.” 

“ That’s all right, dear, I only want to meet you. 
Are you very fond of that scamp of a nephew of 
mine ? ” 

Jeanne, without blushing, replied, “Yes, very 
fond of him ! ” 

(These two women were drawn toward each other, 
and felt instinctively that they would be friends.) 

Mademoiselle de Lansac was shocked on her ar- 
rival at the house to see Madame Berthout’s bril- 
liant costume. She had expected to find her in deep 
mourning, as her daughter was in black. Jeanne 
saw at once that her mother had not made a favor- 
able impression on the old lady, so she hastened to 
offer to escort her to her room : 

“ I must show you your room, Aunt. Raoul will 
show you yours, gentlemen. Unfortunately, his 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 63 

bachelor’s apartments were so small that he could 
not accommodate you, so we were pleased to have 
you as our guests. We will go upstairs now.” 

“ By and by, my dear,” said Aunt de Lansac, “ you 
must take me all over the house.” 

Raoul himself conducted his cousins to their 
room. When they were alone Gaston said, “ What 
a nice girl your fiancee is. Let me congratulate 
you.” 

The old lady was most anxious to see the house, 
and only took her bonnet and cashmere off when 
she announced herself as ready to make a pilgrim- 
age through the many apartments. She was de- 
lighted at the homelike comfort displayed ; at the 
same time, the artistic furnishing and the linen room 
quite captivated her. She turned to Jeanne, “ You 
cannot be a real Parisienne ! ” 

Jeanne smiled. 

“ A real Parisienne, born and brought up in 
Paris — in Marais.” 

In Jeanne’s own room was a large oil painting 
by Jules Breton, “The Gleaners ” ; opposite it was 
a portrait of a gentleman. Mademoiselle de Lan- 
sac noticed it immediately and said, “ Your father. 
You resemble him a good deal. Tell me, how did 
you meet my nephew ? ” 


64 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

“Madame San Rinazzi introduced him to us." 

Mademoiselle de Lansac tapped her forehead, 
trying to recall the armorial bearings of the family 
of San Rinazzi, when the sound of gay voices could 
be heard in the adjoining room. “ There’s Ma- 
dame San Rinazzi now ! " exclaimed Jeanne. Ma- 
dame Berthout opened the communicating doors. 

“ Allow me, Mademoiselle, to introduce you to 
my dear friend, the Baroness San Rinazzi." 

Aunt Economy acknowledged the baroness’s 
courtesy with a nod of the head. She did not like 
this baroness ; not her style at all. What was Bres- 
sac, who was the son of one of her tenants, doing 
here? She said to him, “You here? good-morn- 
ing ! ” Bressac felt small in the presence of his 
father’s land owner. 

Jeanne noticed all this, and felt hurt to see that 
her mother would persist in showing her trousseau 
and linen, asking them to admire the beauty of the 
lace and the fineness of the underwear. 

The arrival of Mademoiselle de Lansac and her 
nephews was a checkmate to Gaetana and Bressac. 

The baroness had hoped she would take the 
place of Raoul’s absent family. Bressac never 
dreamed that Raoul would have any other best man 
save himself. This would have been a matter of 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 65 

pride to them both and have shown society how in- 
timate they were with the Count de Mercoeur. 

Jeanne had naively prevented this little machina- 
tion to the despair of her mother, who thought Ma- 
demoiselle de Lansac was too countryfied and that 
the cousins were gawky, ill-dressed youths ; and 
Mademoiselle de Lansac could not compare with 
the title of baroness ! 

Still, her daughter wished it. 

Mademoiselle de Lansac was not thoroughly well 
acquainted with the Parisian manners which per- 
mitted a social inferior to be introduced to his su- 
perior in salons, and she was obliged to recognize 
many of these curious introductions during the fort- 
night preceding the marriage, while a guest of Ma- 
dame Berthout. One thing she was convinced of, 
that there was something abnormal in this union, and 
she did not hesitate to speak to Raoul of her sur- 
mises. 

11 1 don’t like the atmosphere of this establish- 
ment. Your future mother-in-law is about as 
elegant as one of my farmer’s wives. The 
baroness, where' does she come from? And that 
Bressac — oh ! yes, I know he was your college 
chum ! And the Duchess of Roquemont, who 
smells of her petroleum. The duke sold his name 


66 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

for her money. I think there must be some guilty 
understanding among you all. It is not natural, 
this wedding. I will be bound it is no love 
match on your side at any rate. You are ruined 
are you not ? Spent every franc that you ever 
had ? ” 

“ Almost ! ” 

“ Then why are they giving you a fortune of 
over half a million, and a charming girl — for she is 
a charming girl ; she is worth half a dozen of you. 
Oh, dear ! I wish it was all over, and I could go 
back to Livone. I have had enough of your 
Paris.” But Mademoiselle de Lansac did not talk 
like this when she was alone with Jeanne. 

Jeanne was anxious to captivate the old lady, 
and one day she asked her quickly, “Whg owns 
the chateau where Raoul used to live ?” 

The old lady hesitated before replying. 

“ I do not know, a foreigner bought it ; but he 
has never come to claim his purchase.” The 
dowager did not like to tell an untruth. 

Then Jeanne said, “Will you keep my secret? 
I want to buy it back.” 

“ What?” 

“ Yes ! You know, under my marriage contract, 
that I shall not be able to dispose of my money 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 67 

without Raoul’s signature ; but before we are 
married I am my own mistress, and can spend my 
money as I please, and I should like to give a 
wedding present to my husband, but not as soon as 
we are married ; I will wait a while, till we are better 
acquainted. Oh, I’m sure he will be delighted to 
be able to return to the house where he was born. 
As you live so near, my aunt, won’t you undertake 
the repurchasing of it for me ? ” 

“Very well, very well ! I am delighted to hear 
of your proposition ; this shall be a secret between 
us, that I promise you ; and I can lend you the 
necessary funds, if you will.” The old lady placed 
her arms around her and kissed her. Jeanne was 
indeed worthy to become her niece, and in after 
years she never changed her opinion. 

Raoul, ashamed of the life he was living, uneasy 
in his aunt’s and fiancee's presence, embarrassed 
by his cousin’s astonishment, feverishly nervous in 
Gaetana’s and Bressac’s company, felt his wedding 
day would be a day of deliverance. 

It was a very grand wedding, and in spite of the 
heat of July many of his friends came to Paris for 
the ceremony. Madame Berthout gave magnificent 
donations to the church. The nuptial benediction 
was pronounced by the Papal Nuncio. If money 


68 


THE PRICE OF A COR ONE T. 


could have influenced his Holiness, he would not 
have been wanting. 

Madame Berthout was willing to pay any price to 
give eclat to her daughter’s espousals. As it was, 
the tenor of the Grand Opera House sang the 
“ Salutaris,” and Signora Marcheff came from La 
Scala to sing the “ Sanctus ” in her incomparable 
way. 

When Aunt Economy saw the profusion of flowers, 
the magnificence of the dresses, and the jewels worn 
by the ladies, she repeated to herself the one idea 
she had had during her sojourn in Paris: 

“ I don’t wonder these people bankrupt them- 
selves as my nephew has done, if they live like this.” 

Then another idea entered her perplexed mind. 
“ I hope he won’t spend his wife’s fortune.” She 
was confident that Jeanne really loved her nephew, 
and that she was not flattered by the titled throng 
that had gathered at her wedding. She saw that 
Raoul and Jeanne were anxious to get away from 
Paris. Raoul had already whispered to Jeanne : 

“ It is one o’clock, the train does not leave until 
ten minutes past eight ; another seven hours of 
martyrdom.” 

In the vestry there were congratulations and 
kisses and introductions. The guests, following 


THE PRICE OP A CORONET. 69 

an old custom, marched past the bride and groom. 
It was almost a panorama to Aunt Economy. 

“ Monsieur Bressac, will you oblige me by taking 
the names of the guests, so that I may have them 
for the society papers ? ” requested Madame Ber- 
thout. 

The announcement next day was in all the papers, 
and gave a detailed account of the marriage of Ra- 
oul, Count of Mercoeur, with Mademoiselle Jeanne 
Berthout, also a list of the guests and wedding pres- 
ents, and wound up by saying that it was the finest 
wedding ever solemnized in Paris. This was an- 
other glorious triumph for Jeanne’s mother. 

During the past month Madame Berthout had 
had all her carriages repainted, and her initials 
taken off, to be replaced by a countess’s coronet 
with nine points. 

These nine points, — the number took complete 
possession of her. While on her bonnet she had 
nine rosebuds placed to simulate a coronet. On 
the menu of the wedding breakfast the coronet had 
a most prominent position. 

“I never used it as much as you do, Madame,” 
said Raoul laughingly. 

The newly married couple and Mademoiselle de 
Lansac would infinitely have preferred a quiet 


7o 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


lunch in Madame Berthout’s own house. This the 
widow vetoed. She was going to spend her money 
as she pleased. 

“ Invite her friends to a simple lunch ! ” she said. 
“ No, indeed, that was no way to celebrate a wed- 
ding ! People as well known as they, had their 
wedding receptions at a fashionable hotel, so people 
could see they were not ashamed of the alliance.” 

However, she was perfectly willing they should 
leave that evening for Monaco, Nice, or Mentone. 
They were so delighted with her complaisance, they 
made no further objections to her arranging the 
wedding to suit herself. 

To visit Nice, as it was the summer, they would 
not meet any of their friends, or be bored by their 
attentions. 

At half-past eight Mademoiselle de Lansac and 
her two nephews went to the Orleans station, and 
took the train for Livone ; at ten minutes past 
eight Raoul and Jeanne had left Paris for the South. 

Alone in their private compartment, it was a long 
time before either broke the silence. It seemed as 
if each was afraid to speak first. Jeanne was think- 
ing of Aunt de Lansac, whose honesty and intelli- 
gence was so harmonious to her nature. 

Raoul had before his eyes the everlasting smile 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET 


71 


of Gaetana, and the hypocritical look of Bressac. 
Neither of them had ever spoken of the large sum 
he owed them, but he had been obliged to allow 
them to sign, as witnesses, Jeanne’s marriage settle- 
ments, so they could not help seeing the exact 
amount of her personal fortune — it had been speci- 
fied distinctly — the fortune which was the guaran- 
tee to them that he would pay his infamous debt. 

“ How could he ever pay it? Take back his 
note, and efface the moral boundary line that sepa- 
rated him from the young girl he had just married.” 

“ Bah ! Was he going to drown himself in re- 
morse now ? Had not the baroness told him, ‘ We 
will give you plenty of time to pay us.’ ” 

Why should he think of the past, when Jeanne’s 
hand was pressing his, and his wife broke the silence, 
saying : 

“ I love your aunt very dearly.” 

In these few words she threw so much tenderness 
that Raoul felt they were addressed to him ; he fell 
on his knees in front of her, and placing his hand 
under her chin looked her in the face, and said, 
“Jeanne, will you always love me? Don’t you 
see, dear, how wretched it is for a man to live alone 
after he has been tenderly cared for as a boy. 
Years without his family, almost without friends, 


72 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


especially when chance throws him into a maelstrom 
of follies which seem to engulf him, where every- 
thing seems empty and bad. It is enough to make 
one believe that consciences do not exist, and false- 
hoods reign supreme. I almost despaired. That 
was the position I was in when I met you. Oh, it 
was not long before I loved you*. The first time I 
saw you I noticed how pretty you were ; it was not 
your good looks that caused me to love you. I 
recognized the innate purity and straightforward- 
ness which are your prominent characteristics. 
You have revived the feelings of loyalty and senti- 
ment which I thought were dead in me. Happily, 
they were only asleep.” 

Jeanne listened to these gentle words without any 
prudery, and frankly gave Raoul the key to her 
thoughts. 

“ I told you, Raoul, that my father was my only 
friend, and since his death life has seemed to me 
very barren and empty. Now that I am yours I 
can understand another existence is open to me. 
In this existence you shall be my guide and master. 
See, our meeting, our love was almost spontaneous, 
— that ought to encourage us to hope for future 
happiness ; we have both been brought up differ- 
ently ; you in the ideas of rank, and fidelity to the 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 73 

past ; your parents had a long line of glorious and 
renowned ancestry. I was brought up by a work- 
man, a plebeian in the midst of his own factories, 
and still the same feelings of honor and upright- 
ness were inculcated in both. It was that that 
drew us together in the beginning of our love. 
And for this purpose my father left me, so that I 
might be able to give you the respect I had for 
him.” 

Raoul was delighted with Jeanne’s candor, and 
embraced her warmly. The conversation lan- 
guished. She was so happy in the arms of the man 
of her heart ; too happy to talk. Paris, Gaetana, 
and Bressac were . forgotten ; even the desired coro- 
net, — all were buried for a nonce. 

The business marriage had, through the unfore- 
seen, developed into a union of hearts. 


VII. 


On the arrival of the young couple at Mentone, 
they received a telegram from Madame Berthout, 
saying she was coming on a visit to them, and they 
might expect her in two days. Jeanne and Raoul 
instinctively said “ No ! ” and began to think how 
they could word a telegram advising her to remain 
in her own villa. 

That evening they wrote her a long letter, telling 
her she had better stay in Paris, as it was very 
warm in the South, and nobody of distinction was 
there at that season. Jeanne added a postscript 
saying that she would write her, every day, full 
details of their tour. 

In their walks they would often meet friends and 
acquaintances, such as one meets in all parts of 
Europe in traveling. To the many invitations 
extended to them to participate in the gayeties, 
Raoul would reply for both, “ I am much obliged 
for your kind invitations, but we leave so soon it is 
impossible for us to accept.” After seeing their 
names recorded as constant players at roulette, in 
74 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 75 

the salon of Monte Carlo, Raoul suggested that 
they would leave for Italy. 

“ It is a delightful trip, and I know it so well. I 
know Rome as well as Paris, so I .can act as your 
cicerone, my Jeanne.” 

He thought he knew Italy, but did not know 
half as much as Jeanne did. She had read books 
of travels and geographies, to her advantage, more 
than he imagined, and was able to show Raoul 
tpany hidden beauties which he did not imagine 
existed. The weak nature of Raoul submitted 
entirely to the charming influence of his wife. This 
great happiness caused his entire forgetfulness of 
the world ; and at the present time he lived for 
Jeanne alone. He felt as though his parents had 
only died a little while ago, and that Jeanne’s love 
had come to fill up the gap, — to console him. 

He became the brilliant gentleman, the witty 
talker, full of sudden gayety, and could pass the 
days doing nothing. Pie would rise early in the 
morning, so that he might have the pleasure of sur- 
prising Jeanne, as she woke up, with a bouquet of 
flowers, or some piece of bric-a-brac. 

No more news from Paris ; occasionally a letter 
from “ Maman,” who thought they were very selfish 
to leave her alone so long. Once in a while they 


?6 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


would find an old Parisian paper on some hotel 
table. 

Raoul de Mercoeur was in love, very much in 
love, with his wife ; foolishly, as Bressac would have 
said, “and he was proud of it.” 

When he was in the club, and had heard of a 
man being in love with his wife, he would have said 
to himself, “ imbecile.” 

At Naples, an important letter from Madame 
Berthout decided him to return to France ; so they 
took the steamer to Marseilles, and had a delightful 
voyage, and a good view of the Cornichs and the 
Chateau d’lf. 

“I don’t know why it is,” said Jeanne, “but I 
feel sorry to return to Paris.” 

It was a dismal, cloudy day when they reached 
Paris, and they also felt embarrassed at the luxurious 
way they were met at the station. A special omnibus 
for the trunks, a carriage for their valet and maid, 
and a victoria for themselves ; and Joseph, in a new 
blue and gold livery, as coachman. They had 
scarcely been in the house when Jeanne said, “ It’s 
stifling warm here.” Jeanne did not want her hus- 
band to frequent the clubs any more, so she went 
over to her mother, and putting her arms around 
her said, coaxingly : 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


77 


“ No one knows we have arrived yet ? ” 

“ No one, my daughter ; but why ? ” 

“ I will tell you. You know we love you, but the 
others, all the society, we don’t like it at all ; and if 

Raoul would allow me ” 

Raoul knew better than not to approve of 
Jeanne’s actions. Taking her hands, he said, 
“ Whatever it is, I consent before I know what you 
are going to demand.” 

‘‘Very well. Maman, your house at Bellevue is 
unoccupied. Madame San Rinazzi has returned 
to Paris, you wrote us. Will you lend us your 
house until the winter ? You will come and see us, 
but no one but you, as I do not want anybody else to 
know that we are here, — we shall be so happy. 
Traveling from place to place sightseeing is not a real 
honeymoon, and we are tired of seeing people ; we 
want a little rest. You consent, don’t you, mother ?” 

To consent was a real sacrifice for Madame 
Berthout, she was anxious to have her daughter, 
the countess, to come and reside with her. 

“ Maman, we only want Joseph for a servant 
besides my maid.” 

Raoul added his voice to Jeanne’s and said, 
“ Maman ” so caressingly to Madame Berthout 
that she consented in these words : 


78 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


“ You are very ungrateful.” 

For three months she had the courage to keep 
their secret. They had immediately left for the 
villa after gaining Madame Berthout’s consent. 
Madame Berthout whenever she visited them asked 
them to return to Paris. 

“ After the New Year, Maman.” 

The idea of returning to Paris in a few weeks 
almost broke their hearts, as they had to go back 
and mix with the gay society of the capital. 

Raoul’s creditors had not troubled him at all. 
Could they allow themselves to become impatient 
with a customer whose wife was worth more than a 
million ? 

Gaetana and Bressac were never spoken of, and if 
the memory of them ever came to Raoul, a smile from 
Jeanne would soon cause them to be forgotten. 

“ I suppose I must call on you on New Year’s 
Day,” said Madame Berthout sarcastically. 

“ No, Maman ! ” said the count, “ we recognize 
the respect you are entitled to.” 

The first of January found them both in Paris, 
where they had promised to spend the day with 
Madame Berthout, pleased to bring her the tradi- 
tional bouquet of violets and box of bon-bons, and 
another piece of news. 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


79 


“ Maman, we will follow the old custom of plac- 
ing at your feet our gifts and best wishes.” 

Raoul spoke slowly and pompously, knowing that 
long w T ords and excessive homage delighted 
Jeanne’s mother. 

“Jeanne has something to tell you, and I leave 
you two together.” 

Madame Berthout cried tears of joy to think she 
was to be the grandmother of a viscount. 

Mother of a countess, mother-in-law of a count, 
and grand-mother of a viscount, was too good to be 
true. 

“ My children, I must go and tell all my friends, 
immediately, — this very day.” 

“ We had intended to give you that satisfaction, 
and now, as you have heard all the news and have 
accepted our best wishes, I think we shall return to 
Bellevue. This day week you can expect us per- 
manently.” 

This was the last day of happiness. 

So, delighted in having no New Year’s calls to 
pay, they drove all over Paris, bought cakes and bon- 
bons wholesale for the pleasure of giving them 
away to beggar children. 

" This is our own day, my Jeanne.” 

Jeanne had ordered a magnificent dinner, and 


8o 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 


on their return Joseph had illuminated the whole 
villa, and as his New Year’s offering to his master 
and mistress he presented them with an immense 
bouquet. Jeanne ordered it to be placed in the 
center of the table, to the honest fellow’s delight. 

When the dinner was ready, Jeanne gravely 
knelt in front of her husband and said : 

“ My husband, I wish you a very happy year and 
a son, whom you will bring up to be an honest 
man.” 

Then she took his arm, trembling a little as he 
unrolled his table napkin. 

“ What is this, Jeanne ? ” 

It was a lot of papers and parchments with offi- 
cial seals. 

Raoul was afraid to read them. 

“ Jeanne, Jeanne, where did you get the thought.” 
The name Chateau de Mercoeurhad caught his eye. 

“Well, we had to have a nest to live in when we 
go to visit your country and see your Aunt de 
Lansac.” 

This was the reason Jeanne never let him see his 
aunt’s letters. 

“ Tiens !" he said roughly, taking Jeanne in his 
arms, “ you bear my name with more credit than I 
do.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


81 


During the dinner Jeanne acted like a joyous 
child. 

“ Who would recognize in you my serious little 
wife?” Raoul said to her. Jeanne laughingly an- 
swered, “ You have taken my character, and 
given me yours. You are a man and a master, 
why should I harass myself about the difficul- 
ties of life when you are by my side to direct me. 
You pretended you were wild once. Now you act 
very serious, it is my turn to be giddy.” 

This young woman was naturally’ of a serious, 
philosophical temperament, and to implant herself 
more completely in her husband’s love she acted 
like a child. She loved and admired him, as she 
used to admire and love her father. 

“ People say marriages are a lottery. If that is 
true I have won a prize.” 

“ Are you really so happy, Jeanne ? ” 

“ Yes, Raoul, my happiness surpasses my fond- 
est expectations.” 

In the middle of the night the sound of wheels 
and a violent rapping at the door awoke them. 
Joseph went down to find out what was the cause 
of this untoward visit ; he returned and whispered 
to his master, “ It was Madame Berthout’s coach- 
man, who had driven down, as the telegraph office 


82 THE prtce of a coronet \ 

was closed. * Madame Berthout was very ill, — 
seriously so.” 

“ My mother ill ! ” Jeanne arose. “ Let us go 
at once, Raoul ! ” 

“ I am entirely at your orders.” 

It was a sorrowful drive ; neither spoke, and the 
sound of the horses’ hoofs on the frozen snow alone 
disturbed the silence. 

Frequently Jeanne would open the window to ask 
the coachman what was the cause of her sickness. 

“ I can’t tell you ; this New Year’s day every one 
is out. Could not find a doctor. Madame made a 
great many calls, however, she must have taken 
cold ; she says she feels a great chill.” 

Jeanne threw herself back in the carriage, and 
nestled close up to Raoul as if to ask his protection 
in this coming trouble. 

“ I am afraid, Raoul.” 

They found all the servants up on their arrival. 

Madame Berthout could only say, “ Daughter, I 
am very ill, very ill.” 

Then she spoke of the chill she had taken and 
the difficulty she had in breathing. 

“ And all these carriages in the streets prevent 
me sleeping, and not a doctor to be had.” 

While Jeanne was trying to relieve her mother, 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 83 

Raoul ordered the coachman and grooms to throw 
straw in front of the house, to deaden the sound of 
traffic. Then he went to the station house, and 
got a policeman to help him find a doctor. The 
police doctor answered his summons, thoroughly 
recognizing the fact that he was called out of his 
warm bed to give first medical assistance, and that 
he could not charge any fee. 

The physician thought Madame Berthout’s case 
very serious. He did not attempt to dissimulate 
his apprehension ; and when the policeman asked 
for the ten francs, which the law allowed, the doctor 
whispered to Raoul, “ Be careful of another chill, 
keep her warm.” When Jeanne left him alone with 
Raoul for a moment he said, “ Inflammation of the 
lungs is dangerous to a person of her age.” 

The following day the most eminent physicians 
of Paris were called in. 

“ Double pneumonia. Nine days to wait. If on 
the ninth day, ” 

Nine days of anxiety and sorrow to Jeanne, she 
never left her mother a moment. 

“ Go and lie down, I will take your place by your 
mother’s side ! ” After a great deal of persuasion 
she consented to sleep two hours in the day if Raoul 
would take her place by her mother’s bedside. 


8 4 


THE PRICE OF A CORO .VET. 


The poor lady was flattered to be watched by a 
real count, even in her sickness. 

“ Oh, Monsieur le Comte ! How kind you are ! ” 

The entire household were ready to pay homage 
to the doctor, when he drove up in his carriage 
twice a day. 

“ What a charming man the doctor is ! ” 

As all fashionable doctors are, he had the most 
exquisite manners and friendly way of entering the 
sick room, tenderly feeling the pulse of the invalid, 
while his countenance showed how he sympathized 
with his patients. He would prolong a visit into 
three quarters of an hour’s duration, when he could 
say all he wanted to in two minutes. 

In diagnosing Madame Berthout’s case he would 
not commit himself to a favorable opinion until 
after the ninth day ; he said there were cases where 
the most devoted attention and nursing proved of 
no avail. 

Every day a bulletin was placed on the front 
door, and also a card tray was left in the vestibule, 
that the invalid’s friends might be informed of her 
state. Madame Berthout was quite pleased to hear 
of the number of visits of inquiry. 

Jeanne would not receive any visitors. Raoul 
spent his days with her. Stunned almost at the 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 85 

thought that a cloud had come to mar the beauty of 
the horizon. 

How disgusted he would have been had he 
heard Gaetana tell Bressac, in a doleful tone, suit- 
able to the occasion : 

“ Just as I predicted, your friend will be a mil- 
lionaire before long ; I never imagined I was such a 
good prophetess.” 

On the evening of the ninth day, the doctor 
declared that Madame Berthout’s case was hope- 
less. 

“ If she has her will to make, or wishes to receive 
the sacraments, I think she had better attend to it 
at once.” 

A little while after this Jeanne had a table with 
a white cloth and silver candlesticks placed near 
the bed ; the room looked like a chamber of death. 
Madame Berthout’s confessor came and she re- 
ceived the sacraments, but in her confession she 
never thought to accuse herself of the greatest of 
all her sins, her vanity, which allowed her to bar- 
ter her daughter for a ruined count’s title. This 
was her consolation in dying, to see that her daugh- 
ter was a great lady. In her dying moments it 
gave her more pleasure to call Raoul M. le Comte, 
than “ my son.” Her last words were : 


86 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


“ There is no one that can take your title of 
countess away from you. Adieu, my children ! ” 

Her sufferings lasted till dawn of day. 

Jeanne held her mother’s dying hand in hers. 
Raoul supported her with his arm. 

It was now true she had no one but him to love. 
Madame Berthout’s body was almost cold before 
Raoul could induce his wife to leave it. 

She said, “ Raoul, our happiness was too great 
to last.” 

Daylight, cold and wintry, was struggling to gain 
entrance through the closed shutters. 

The Sisters of Bon Secour arranged the body for 
the coffin. 

Occasionally Raoul would think of his mother’s 
coffin, and her death bed, and how she lay in state 
in the grand salon of the chateau. Thanks to his 
wife’s love, it was again his chateau. Tears came 
to his eyes, and he also remembered that he had no 
one left but Jeanne. 

Jeanne thought of her life as a girl ; how quickly 
it had fled. First her father died, then her mother, 
and seeing Raoul’s tears she went over to him and 
said, “ We are indeed alone,” and threw her arms 
around his neck and cried to break her heart. 

The news of the death traveled quickly ; the 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET \ 87 

numbers of callers increased tenfold. It was a 
certain solemn joy to Joseph to bring to his master 
every evening the great pack of visiting cards, as 
evidence of the interest and kindly feeling toward 
the family. 

Mechanically Raoul glanced them over. Two 
names struck him, names that he saw every- 
where, — a constant reminder before his eyes. 

Jean Marie Bressac. 

Baroness Gaetana de San Rinazzi. 

He let the whole pack fall to the floor unheeded. 


VIII. 




The same guests that had six months before been 
invited to the wedding now in somber costume and 
solemn countenances attended the funeral, and the 
same singers rendered the requiem as sang the 
wedding march. 

The high altar, such as is used for rich persons’ 
funerals, the dozen priests, stoled in black vest- 
ments, the master of the ceremonies, a portly 
Swiss, more dignified than an ambassador. 

A magnificent funeral, as it had been a wedding 
at the same church. 

The difference of their views and characters pre- 
vented there ever having existed any congeniality 
between Jeanne and her mother ; but death, sud- 
den death, which had carried off all the family, left 
Jeanne with a void in her life. 

In the carriage going to the cemetery, in the 
midst of her sorrow, she could not resist concen- 
trating all her thoughts on Raoul. 

Raoul absorbed all her life and her love. She 
cried quietly. She had desired to follow her 
88 


the price of a CORONET. S9 

mother’s body to the grave, so she must not show 
any signs of weakness at the last moment. 

On reaching the cemetery, she saw her mother’s 
coupe unoccupied, with the lamps lit, covered with 
crape ; she was shocked at this absurd style of put- 
ting horses and lamps in mourning. 

“ Do poor people need all this ceremony to 
mourn those whom they love ? ” and in disgust of 
the hypocritical attempt at sorrow, it was a certain 
amount of consolation to know that she was her 
own mistress, and could regulate her style of living 
to suit herself, leaning on an upright, honest man, 
whom fortune had given her for a husband. 

She attributed to sorrow the abasement which 
seemed to weigh Raoul down, and was grateful to 
him for his sympathy. She could not guess the 
suffering and humiliation which tortured her hus- 
band, this rough awakening to her dream of happi- 
ness. 

Instinctively she had not sent any invitation to 
the funeral to either Bressac or the baroness, but 
Bressac and the baroness were there, and gave an 
example of correct deportment, with their affec- 
tionate condolences. 

“ Poor friend.” 

“ Dear little one ! ” 


9 o 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 


While the priest was sprinkling the grave with 
holy water, they approached Jeanne and Raoul. 
If they had dared they would have returned home 
with them. In making an offer of their undying 
devotion Bressac whispered in Gaetana’s ear : 

“ Our friend is now a millionaire. Is it not time 
to suggest a little payment ? ” 

“ No, no ! Not yet. It woulcf not do for him 
to have to tell his wife he owed three hundred 
thousand francs, and it needed her signature, be- 
fore he could draw the money. Wait for her grief 
to subside a little, before we broach the subject ; 
tradesmen’s daughters always hold the purse strings 
tight.” 

Bressac shrugged his shoulders and muttered, 
“ Absurd delay. Useless delicacy on your part.” 

“ Mon cher, on such occasions as this I give 
credit for one year, and the young countess will 
soon see how quick ‘ Maman ’ made the money fly- 
No, no ! we wall let the matter rest, we hold the 
Count of Mercoeur, he will surely pay us.” 

Then noticing that the Duchess of Roquemont 
was straining her ear to listen to w T hat they were 
saying, Gaetana murmured audibly : 

“ Dear Lord, grant the poor departed a place in 
heaven.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 91 

Jeanne tried hard to check her tears while 
thanking these ladies for their sympathy. The 
kisses of the baroness and the compassionate sad- 
ness of Bressac’s face almost reconciled her 
toward these two, whom for so long a time 
she distrusted and entertained a certain repug- 
nance. 

Jeanne had now to take charge of the house and 
her fortune, “ Our fortune,” she said to Raoul, 
“ as all I possess belongs to you.” 

“ Oh, Jeanne ! Jeanne ! ” the words choked in 
his throat, he wished he had the courage to avow 
his complete indebtedness, if only he could say to 
her, “ I’m miserable, I lied to you, I sold my 
name, to do which I had to lose all sense of honor 
and delicacy, but you have regenerated me, and 
made an honest man of me.” 

He was afraid. He remembered the card Jeanne 
picked up at the Matrimonial Agency, and how she 
tore it to pieces, and had thrown it out of doors, 
saying, “ Isn’t it disgraceful ? ” 

It was not only Jeanne’s love that he required 
but also her esteem. To say that he was guilty, — 
guilty of a baseness that no true woman would 
ever forgive, he would lose her forever. At these 
thoughts he stopped just as he was going to betray 


92 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

himself, and said, “ Jeanne, Jeanne, my adored 
one.” 

The wants of the household and the business 
attending her mother’s decease, allowed Jeanne to 
forget her recent bereavement. Her practical mind 
was astonished at the careless and indifferent way 
her mother had kept her accounts. Patiently she 
tried to unravel the tangled skein. When her work 
was finished she said to Raoul, “They deceived you 
regarding the amount of my fortune, they said I 
had a million and a half ; we have, but my mother 
kept such a retinue of servants, and spent so much 
money, that after her debts are paid we shall only 
have twelve hundred thousand francs.” 

Raoul answered her with a kiss, then he said : 

“ Did you ever think that I dreamt of your 
fortune? Your mother was a young-looking and 
healthy woman. It’s true she lived extravagantly. 
We will retrench, and send away all useless servants. 
.All I ask is to be permitted to retain my faithful 
Joseph, he can be our coachman and butler. We 
don’t care to live in style, all we want is to be 
happy, not live in false luxury.” 

A short while after Madame Berthout’s death the 
tradesmen whose bills had not been paid sent them 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 93 

in. Jeanne saw that all her trousseau had been 
purchased on credit, she went to her mother’s bank- 
ers to sell some bonds, and she learned that her 
mother had been speculating in the Bourse and had 
lost a hundred thousand francs. 

Two years of wasting money, flinging it hither 
and thither, contracting debts — even the dress- 
maker had not been paid. 

As these things became evident, she said smilingly 
to Raoul, “ My son will be poorer than we thought 
he would.” 

She made excuses for her lack of fortune which 
grated on Raoul’s ears, as though she penniless 
would be valueless. 

“ Well, if our son will be poor, I’ll work to make 
a fortune as large as grandfather’s.” 

“Ah! — that’s what you are thinking about, 
is it ? I have noticed for the past month you were 
very pensive ! ” 

When the legion of creditors heard through the 
bankers that the Countess of Mercoeur was paying 
all debts, Raoul’s creditors began sending their bills, 
and with the subtilty of Parisian tradesmen, they 
addressed all the bills to Madame le Comtesse de 
Mercoeur. 


94 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

Jeanne said nothing, but asked Raoul if the bills 
were correct. 

“ It is mbch better to pay all your bills as I am 
paying my mother’s. I have always had a horror 
of debt ; ” and with the most delicate feeling 
Jeanne never asked any questions, mixing his ac- 
counts with those of her mother’s. 

“ Who would guess that millionaires as we ought 
to be should be so much in debt ? ” 

Millionaire, a million, this was the exact amount 
of their fortune. Fifty thousand francs income, 
and a cottage at Bellevue, and Aunt de Lansac had 
not sent her account in for the repurchasing of 
Mercoeur. She had written to Jeanne: “We will 
settle that business when we meet.” 

Jeanne wanted to go to Mercoeur, Raoul found 
one pretext and another to keep her in Paris for the 
past two months ; he had felt wretched, during 
which time his mind was absorbed by the falseness 
of his situation. 

In the past there was only one terrible souvenir, 
the promissory note given to the baroness, to be 
paid out of Jeanne’s fortune. If the baroness had 
the audacity to present her bill to the countess, — 
as the other creditors had done ! 

No ! that is not to be feared ; but — the three 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 95 

hundred thousand francs, he must get them to take 
up his note, and to be able to shut the door in the 
face of these two adventurers. Up till now his 
wife’s mourning had been sufficient excuse to close 
the door to all visitors ; but in six months or a 
year — - — 

He thought he would tell Jeanne that he had 
lost three hundred thousand francs in a specula- 
tion. But he would have to lie to Jeanne. Lie ! 
to her ! it would be his first, and in her presence 
he could not. She might guess all, read his very 
thoughts. No, he must try and win this sum. The 
figure made him tremble. 

“ Oh ! I was crazy to pledge myself ! Alas, what 
resources had I left ? One word from the baron- 
ess might break up my home. I signed it — I 
owe it, — I must pay it." 

Occasionally he muttered, “ If they tried to make 
me pay through a legal process, it would be easy 
to prove blackmail and extortion. Fancy me being 
brought into a law court. People would say I was 
their accomplice. Blackmailers, such as they are. 
My Jeanne whom I love, and who is the joy of my 
life, it is at the cost of being a scoundrel that I won 
her. How vile it seems to me now. Better had I 
blown my brains out. Shall I do it now?” 


96 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

This was the only solution of the difficulty which 
he saw, but he could not face death tranquilly 
now as he could have done some time ago. He 
did not want to die, to renounce all his happiness. 
His struggle against himself was carried on vigor- 
ously. Since being in contact with Jeanne, and 
knowing her disgust for anything that was dis* 
honorable, he had learned the lesson. An honest 
man pays his debts, and does not kill himself to 
escape them. 

Then he thought he would insure his life for three 
hundred thousand francs, pay the first premium, 
and fall as if by accident under the wheels of a 
carriage, and thus die without the disgrace of having 
to commit suicide. The idea seemed feasible to 
him. He went to see two companies, and the only 
result of his visit was they both refused to insure 
his life, — as the wounds he had received at Patay 
were liable to reopen and he might die of haemor- 
rhage. 

He had been able to sell his name and title, but 
no one wanted his life. Was it worthless ? 

These were the reasons why he told Jeanne that 
he was going to seek employment. He commenced 
to see trouble ahead, even his dreams were not free 
from the harassing thought that he had to earn 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 97 

three hundred thousand francs. He did not care 
what the business was, whether it was dry goods, 
financiering, or manufacturing tallow candles, he 
felt capable of rendering himself his slave to his 
wants, with one object in view. Jeanne encouraged 
him, saying, “ You can have part of our capital.” 

He spent whole days visiting different offices of 
brokers and lawyers who had businesses for sale. 
He found nothing to suit him, as he had no com- 
mercial experience. Another thing, he had become 
miserly about spending his wife’s fortune, and would 
not be induced to invest one cent of it, unless he 
saw an absolute certainty of gaining two. 

The month rolled on. He found nothing but 
discouragement. Despairing of success, he thought 
he would go and see his own money lenders, men 
who did their business by calling themselves “ real 
estate agents.” In these days usurers are not 
misers, living in wretched hovels, depriving them- 
selves of necessities to be enabled to loan more 
money. Parisian usurers live very comfortably, 
generally keep two good servants, a good cook, live 
in nice new houses, well furnished, having cosy 
offices to transact their business, with only a large 
safe to distinguish it from the library of a literary 
man. Heavy draperies and portieres to prevent a 


98 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

third party overhearing any transaction that might 
take place, and receiving no visitors unless they 
make an appointment. Such are our money- 
lenders of to-day. 

After calling on many of these gentry, Raoul’s 
last hope was in Van Dernicht. Van Dernicht 
never refused any business until he had investi- 
gated it thoroughly. He was wise enough never to 
allow a possible client to escape him until he found 
there was nothing to be gained thereby, whether 
he was a Jew, Catholic, Protestant, or Mussulman, 
French, Dutch, or German. In reply to all ques- 
tions, relating to his nationality, religion and 
opinions, Van Dernicht only answered : 

“ A business man, at your service.” 

He was middle aged, thin and bald, almost lost 
beneath his heavy black clothes ; he dyed his 
mustache, which formed a strange contrast with 
his heavy white beard. He had an hypocritical 
look about him, downcast eyes, which only ap- 
peared to possess any animation when he was talk- 
ing about money. 

To try and define what his business was would 
be difficult. He did anything that would bring 
him money. Bought notes of minors, sold mines 
on commission, attended to bankrupts, scheduled 


THE PRICE OP A CORONET. 99 

their debts, compromising with their creditors, lent 
money on diamonds, got up fictitious auctions of 
old masters (that had just been painted in Paris), 
and would hire his name to actresses who would 
not rent apartments in their own to prevent the 
sheriff seizing their furniture for debt. 

“ Van Dernicht,” said Bressac, who knew him 
thoroughly, “ is the king of scoundrels, and prince 
of usurers.” 

He had been extremely accommodating to Raoul 
on several occasions, and only asked fair interest 
for his money. 

Raoul went to Van Dernicht one evening after 
having notified him to be at home. Raoul opened 
the conversation abruptly: “I am the Count of 
Mercoeur, I want three hundred thousand 
francs ! ” 

“ Three hundred thousand francs ? ” 

In spite of his usual stolidity, Van Dernicht raised 
the shade of his lamp to look at his client better. 

“Three hundred thousand francs, Monsieur le 
Comte ? ” 

“ Yes ! did you not hear what I said ? ” 

“And — what security ? ” 

“ My signature ! ” 

Van Dernicht would have liked to have replied, 


IOO 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


“ Your signature is not worth the paper it would be 
written on,” but he said plausibly, 

“Very well. I will see what lean do actively. 
Is there no one else but me whom you can apply 
to?” 

This was a usual answer of Van Dernicht’s. 

After this conversation Raoul came to him regu- 
larly twice a week to hear his stereotyped answer. 

“ In the present state of affairs, money is very 
hard to obtain, but I am doing my best for 
you.” 

Van Dernicht had a special envelope, on whose 
cover was written : “Affairs of the Count of Mer- 
coeur.” 

To-day an old and honorable name and title will 
always find a purchaser among unscrupulous finan- 
ciers who desire to make a fine show on their pros- 
pectus. Van Dernicht was anxious to get Raoul in- 
volved in one of these schemes. 

Without being absolutely certain, he imagined 
how Raoul got married. His marriage was evidently 
arranged through some broker, and as he had bar- 
tered his name once, why not try him again. 

To find money for a man who had not one cent 
of his own, was not to be talked about. 

“ No capitalist would advance you the money, 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. ioi 

M. le Comte, not one ! You will have to embark 
in some speculation.” 

Raoul looked at him attentively, “ Why ! that is 
just what I want, I have been looking for some- 
thing.” 

Then Van Dernicht decided to tell him of a 
superb plan he had, a new system of colonial agri- 
culture, a wonderful system which would enrich 
the emigrants. 

There would have to be emigrants to create a 
new France, to give honor, glory, and fortune to 
those that form the company and directors. It 
was to be an enterprise that would make the old 
East India Company blush. 

Raoul hoped for two days ! 

Unfortunately, Van Dernicht had told him the 
name of the originator of this plan. He turned 
out to be an adventurer, and two days later was 
arrested for forgery. Van Dernicht swore to 
Raoul in a most innocent way : 

“ If you had known him, you would have taken your 
oath he was the most honest man in the world.” 

Raoul felt himself saved from a terrible tempta- 
tion ; he ceased his visits to Van Dernicht. Jeanne 
began to find fault at his constant absence from 
home. 


i 02 


the price of a coronet. 


“ What a craving for money you have ; we have 
more than enough to live upon.” 

“ Did you not tell me yourself that I ought to 
work ? ” 

“Yes, but later on. I am lonesome. Your first 
duty is to me, — your second is to yourself. I don’t 
like to see your forehead so wrinkled. I shall be- 
gin to think you are not happy. For the last two 
months you seem to have forgotten all pleasures in 
this pursuit of money, the very thought of it seems 
to intoxicate you. This is not the way to win a 
fortune. Little by little, constant and steady work, 
sometimes years of labor, before one can hope to 
amass a good comfortable income. These specula- 
tions on the Bourse and colonization schemes are 
only traps for the unwary ; only one or two ever 
make anything out of it.” 

Still it was through these speculations which 
Jeanne despised, that Raoul expected to make his 
fortune unknown to her. When his wife spoke 
like this, he became more serious, thinking over 
the utter impossibility of ever asking her forgive- 
ness. 

The happiness of being a father dispelled these 
clouds for a little while. 

Aunt de Lansac was very angry at Jeanne’s not 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 103 

going to the chateau, where all the Counts of 
Mercoeur for centuries had been born. The pretty 
letter which Jeanne wrote pacified her, and she 
sent her grand-nephew a beautiful frock to be 
baptized in. 

“As you had no mother, Jeanne, we will make 
the pretty little clothes together.” 

When Raoul would go to the club or Bois, Jeanne 
would shut herself in her room, sorry to be alone, 
and looking at the portrait of her father, and that 
of her husband’s, she would wonder which loved 
her the best. She would then go to the nursery 
and look at her son sleeping so peacefully, with his 
Normandy nurse at his side, and would ask herself 
if he was really hers, jealous of the nurse who could 
sit by him all day long. 

Raoul never thought of the agony of the past few 
months he had endured, his weak and undecided 
character let him forget the past and the present. 
He returned to the happiness of the first months of 
marriage, perfectly content to spend the whole day 
with Jeanne and his son. It was now Jeanne’s turn 
to look pensive ; she had a great care and charge 
before her, and felt her responsibility. 

“ We will give a baptismal party,” she said to 
Raoul. “ We shall be obliged to invite some 


104 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


friends, though we are in mourning, but from then 
on we will live for ourselves ; we three.” 

Raoul had the delicacy of feeling to give his son 
the name of his wife’s father. They never went 
out except to accompany the child in his drives. 

In their desire to be alone they gave orders to 
Joseph to send out the invitations and announce- 
ment of the birth of the little viscount. They 
received many letters of congratulation and re- 
proach at their ignoring all social customs, living 
apart from the world as though they were savages. 

“ Poor Mercoeur,” said the Duchess of Roque- 
mont, “he is buried for life. I judged his wife 
correctly — a little bourgeoise.” 

And the Baroness San Rinazzi answered in her 
soft voice : 

“ They are very excusable, this young couple, 
they are so much in love with each other. As you 
know, it was a love match.” 


IX. 


These last three months of tranquil happiness 
quickly passed away. 

It seemed to Jeanne and Raoul that their child 
had always been a part of their existence, as 
though its cries and smiles and shy kisses had 
always been theirs. 

“ Say, we will have to introduce him to our 
friends, we can’t keep him forever hidden.” 

Both of them repeated the phrase to each other. 
They had sent out a few invitations to a private 
dinner. Jeanne had selected two old friends of 
her father’s and Raoul two old playmates, ladies of 
the highest rank and birth, and the old General 
Moustel, who was a far away cousin. 

They had lived so long in their own private 
apartments that the large and elegantly furnished 
parlors of Madame Berthout looked too garish to 
suit their tastes. The gilt and white furniture, 
with its brilliant satin coverings and the real lace 
curtains looked out of place in a household who 
were still wearing mourning. 

105 


io 6 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


“ We cannot receive our friends in that room as 
it is furnished now,” Jeanne said. They imme- 
diately began to select new furniture and draper- 
ies, spending entire days choosing some quaint 
piece of furniture. Jeanne held a daily reception 
to which cabinet makers and upholsterers were the 
only guests. Raoul would frequent auctions and 
purchase largely, though with perfect taste, objects 
of art and bric-a-brac to adorn the cabinets. 

They were delighted to find how much real 
pleasure it gave them, this new attraction, and it 
gradually dawned upon them that hitherto their 
lives had been spent too selfishly and they per- 
ceived how egotistical their existence had been 
since their marriage. 

“Raoul, I was wrong to exact so much of your 
time. I wanted you for yourself alone. I was too 
selfish. Now, I want you to invite all your friends 
to come and see us. I must not imagine that my 
company alone will be sufficient to amuse you.” 

Raoul protested, saying, “ Jeanne’s society was 
all he wanted.” But she, with her common sense, 
said that her life might satisfy her in its tranquillity, 
but that her husband had always been used to 
society and after a while the present monotonous 
existence would tire, and likely enough he would 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 107 

desire the club life he had been accustomed to. 
Hence, before that day came she would make his 
home gay and bright so that he would have no 
desire to go elsewhere. 

“ Wise woman you are, Jeanne." 

The pleasure of seeing their friends quite elated 
them now they had got used to the idea. “’The 
salon well lighted, plenty of flowers for the women, 
supper served in the conservatory, and my boudoir 
for a card room — it will be delightful," cried Jeanne 
gayly. 

At their first dinner party Jeanne and Raoul 
were full of happiness. It was the anniversary of 
their wedding, Jeanne wore an exquisite costume 
of white crepe, unrelieved by a single ornament. 

The old general was the first to arrive, and when 
he had congratulated Jeanne on her appearance he 
took Raoul aside and whispered : 

“ My boy, you can’t deny it, but you had 
wonderful good luck. Eh ! " 

The young cousins of Raoul’s, Combat and de 
Lansac, had availed themselves of this opportunity 
to come again to Paris. Aunt de Lansac declined 
the invitation, saying she would await her nephew 
and niece’s visit to Mercoeur ; as at her age travel- 
ing had ceased to be a pleasure, 


108 the price of a coronet. 

Madame St Leon avowed her visit was to see the 
baby ; she asked for him to be brought to her ; when 
he was she thought him superb. So fat and 
healthy. 

The Countess Dallon was seated opposite to 
Jeanne, and she smiled at Raoul significantly, 
which significance meant, “ My congratulations, 
your wife is charming.” The Marquis L’Es- 
saumes, whose hobby was agriculture, was delighted 
to meet Messieurs Louden and Chappe, old friends 
of Jeanne’s father’s, whose agricultural machinery 
was celebrated, — their factory was in Rue Char- 
rone. 

There was that undercurrent of sympathetic good 
feeling between the hosts and their guests, in spite 
of the difference in social rank. 

Suddenly, Raoul heard a noise in the reception 
room, and Joseph saying, “ But no, sir, no sir.” 

Then he saw Joseph’s head at the door. 

“ If you please, sir, could I speak to you ? ” 

Raoul immediately arose and went out to see 
what was the cause of the interruption. His cheek 
became pallid when he saw de Bressac, his over- 
coat over his arm, and dressed in full evening 
dress. 

There was a painful silence between these men 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 109 

for a few seconds, then Bressac hissed, “ So my 
place was not set at table ? ” 

‘‘You certainly astonish me,” Raoul curtly said. 
“ Come here ! ” he invited him into his private 
smoking room. 

“Now what are you here for? What do you 
want ? ” 

“ I would rather leave that to your imagination.” 

“But, to-night, it’s impossible, my guests.” 

“Ah ! yes, you invite your friends, but are afraid to 
invite your creditors. Still, until to-day you can- 
not say they have bothered you much, as other 
creditors have done. You certainly owe them some 
regard, some thanks.” 

Raoul was completely taken aback ; this time his 
dream was over. The awakening had been too 
abrupt, the sufferings were intense. 

“ You have a very short memory, Raoul, you 
quickly forget important services have been ren- 
dered you. Since your marriage — a marriage 
which was your financial redemption, you have lost 
no opportunity to slight me — and seriously.” 

“ Ah ! Hush ! Hush ! You talk so coolly of 
things which I could not prevent.” 

“ So ! so ! You would like to call me a rascal ! 
Card on the table face up, dear friend. So, if I am 


no 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


a rascal what are you ? Have you forgotten ? I 
am going to refresh your memory. Your dinner is 
not yet served, it’s only half-past six ; I have half 
an hour.” 

Bressac calmly laid his coat over the back of a 
chair and sat down opposite Raoul, and fixing his 
cold gray eyes on him said, with a harsh, dry laugh, 
at intervals : 

“ It is over a year. It begins like a story book. 
You were ruined, no resources left, nothing even to 
pawn, there was only death left, you were in despair. 
‘ Bressac, dear Bressac, your chum Bressac,’ took 
you by the hand, took you to Bellevue, and through 
the kindness of his friend Gaetana you made in less 
than annonth the finest match that was ever made. 
It was a business transaction in which you were the 
figurehead and we the silent partners. It’s only fair 
to pay your associates their portion of the spoils 
you obtained. It seems to me that’s only fair. 
This first year has passed without a word, without 
a sign from you. You go to Nice, Italy, and re- 
turn to Paris, to Bellevue, without informing us. 
Mourning in your family alone gave us the oppor- 
tunity of shaking your hand ; still, you thought it 
only respectful to invite us to the funeral. So you 
had not forgotten us then. Why, then, should you 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. . 


ill 


leave us out on your entrance formally into society 
and the anniversary of a marriage we concocted. 
You certainly must have omitted to invite us, 
forgetting we are still partners. I have come to 
collect my portion of the fortune with which you 
cut such a dash. Stop, don’t commence to tremble 
like that, or your friends will think you have been 
caught in some nefarious intrigue.” 

Raoul was trembling with temper and indigna- 
tion, wishing to throw the intruder out of the win- 
dow, the wretch who so openly insulted his happi- 
ness. How could he throw him out ? The color 
left his cheeks at the thought. 

He must pay him first, and if he got the money 
to pay him he must reveal the whole affair to his 
wife. How could he in her present condition ; far 
from well, and still in the first joy of happy mater- 
nity. This would be a terrible blow to her. 

Bressac was negligently looking over Raoul’s 
album, awaiting a reply. 

“ It’s very nice here. I will come and see you 
occasionally.” 

“ Listen, Bressac. My conduct might have been 
ignoble, and I had to give you both my note to ac- 
complish a bad deed. You are right, I had got to 
the end of my tether ; almost in despair, I married, 


I 12 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 


as many of my acquaintances have done. You pre- 
tend to be astonished to find me a devoted husband, 
instead of a roul who spends his wife’s fortune on 
others, — as he only married as a speculation. You 
are astonished to find me at the end of a year of 
married life a changed man, almost a bourgeois. 
It’s true, I am ; and the years of ruined life appall 
me when I recall their follies. I propose to become 
a thoroughly respectable member of society, not a 
scoundrel ; an honest man in the entire acceptation 
of the word. I have ” 

Raoul was interrupted by Bressac’s hearty laugh. 

“ My conscience ! If I had any influence at the 
Academy you should certainly be the recipient of 
the Prix Montyon. That would allow you to pay 
your just debts.” 

Raoul had been a hero almost during the war, his 
name honorably mentioned on three different occa- 
sions on the official dispatches of General Charrette ; 
courage was natural to him, but he lacked it before 
this bandit, whose glance and word seemed to strike 
terror into his heart. He lacked courage simply be- 
cause he felt the truth of the other’s words, and 
knew he was culpable. He was terribly humil- 
iated. 

“ Wait ! don’t drive me crazy ; it’s awful to be 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 113 

thus spoken to ! I can’t pay you to-night this im- 
mense sum of money. I have never forgotten the 
debt, I swear it ; for three months I hunted Paris to 
find some means whereby I could pay it. I found 
nothing.” 

“ What about your wife’s fortune ? ” 

“ I should have to obtain her signature.” 

“ Is not that signature quickly given when one’s 
wife is in love with one ? ” 

“ Bressac, don’t laugh at our love ; it’s too sacred 
for that. I won’t allow you to, either. It does 
not concern you. My wife’s fortune is already 
nearly a million less than it was, but I will and must 
find the three hundred thousand francs. Since my 
child’s birth I have ceased to look, I lost courage. 
But to-morrow I will try again. I have not asked 
my relatives in Gascony. In two or three months 
you will be paid ; it’s now July, give me until Sep- 
tember. The end of September, on the word of a 
gentleman.” 

“ Until then, then ! Nothing on account ? What, 
nothing ? I give my word I need fifty louis badly 
to-night.” 

“ This evening I have not so much about me, — 
I will send them in the morning.” 

“ Never mind, just order another place laid at 


1 14 THE PRICE OP A CORONET. 

table. No doubt your guests will play cards after 
supper. I am very fond of playing ! ” 

Raoul felt the blood rush to his head at this cool 
proposition. 

“ You have been so long paying the debt that the 
interest would amount to a considerable sum. Now 
we shall not exact monetary interest, but you will 
not forget to invite us in the future often to your 
house, especially when you have select company. 
You intend to have a reception every week, I under- 
stand. The Baroness San Rinazzi and your old 
friend Bressac will always favor you with their 
company. The baroness is a very correct and lady- 
like woman, received everywhere. She was at the 
Papal Nuncio reception last night, and as your 
friend is received in the most exclusive circles, now, 
like a good fellow, take me in and introduce me to 
General Moustel ; he is the only one of your guests 
I am not acquainted with. Now take all the 
wrinkles out of your forehead and be yourself 
again. Throw dull care to the dogs, away with all 
notions of delicacy, remember the world is com- 
posed of dupers and their dupes ; be careful not 
to be counted among the latter.” 

And Bressac, entirely at his ease, amiable gos- 
siper and with a well turned phrase, quite capti- 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 1 15 

vated the general and the Countess Dallon ; and the 
Marquise L’Essaumes asked of this polished knave, 
whose audacity had given him a foothold in the 
inner circle of fashionable society, “ Monsieur Bres- 
sac, how much was collected yesterday at the fair 
of the Magdalens ?” 

“ Much less, Madame, than if you had been 
there.” 

“ I am too old to beg,” said the marquise. 

“ And I not young enough,” said the countess. 

“ Ladies, you can’t make me believe that ; the 
Duchess of Roquemont got five hundred francs 
with only a captain for her escort.” 

“ Your friend the baroness ? ” 

“ Madame de San Rinazzi reaped a harvest, and 
quite depleted the pockets of the young folk ; I 
believe she collected over three thousand francs.” 

“ Why, really ! Oh ! she had a talent for beg- 
ging,” the countess smilingly said. “ We must not 
inquire who was her escort.” 

“ It was I, Madame ; a poor and humble person.” 

Jeanne whispered to Raoul, “ I did not think 
you would invite Bressac.” 

“ He came on business, and as he was dressed, I 
urged him to stay.” 

Society was always cordial to de Bressac ; he had 


II 6 the price of a coronet. 

the tact to always say the right thing at the right 
time, and knew how to be agreeable to every one. 
There was only one thing about him, it was his 
eyes ; they had a false luster and could not look a 
person in the face. 

During the course of the evening he sat at the 
card table for a few minutes, and after a game or 
two arose, saying, “ My luck is too poor to-night.” 

The Marquise L’Essaumes, knowing he had won 
about eight hundred francs, asked him : 

“Can’t I solicit out of your winnings something 
for the poor ?” 

Bressac gallantly replied : 

“ Represented by you, Madame, the poor shall 
have half.” 

And he gave her half his winnings. 

When he was leaving, Raoul and Teanne invited 
him to visit them ; she said, “On Thursday we re- 
ceive our friends, and shall be delighted to see you, 
only our reception will be very quiet, as my mother 
has only been dead such a short time.” 


X. 

Jean Marie Bressac has gained fourteen 
prizes. 

When his father heard the announcement at the 
Lycee at Toulouse, it fully repaid him for the ten 
years’ privation he and his wife had undergone to 
give their son an education to make him a gentle- 
man. 

The old farmer was the bailiff on Mademoiselle 
de Lansac’s farm, and reckoned among one of the 
most honest men in the village. 

The son had first been sent to a seminary to see 
if he could not be made a priest, but was expelled 
for insubordination. Now he had gained all the 
best prizes at Toulouse. This was rather a com- 
pensation to the father. When they reached Li- 
vone, almost the entire village turned out to wel- 
come the winner of such distinction. 

When the admiration subsided the good Livo- 
naise would talk of Jean Marie as a progressive 
youth who knew everything. 

He was anxious to go to Paris, which city at this 
early date exercised a subtle fascination for him ; 
117 


Ii 8 the price of a coronet. 

his father would not hear of it and placed him in 
the office of Lawyer Lousseteau. 

“Fifty francs a year salary — fifty francs a 
year,” he would growl, sotto voce , while copying 
some deed. “ Nice income that for a fellow who 
gained distinction at the university. Clerk to a 
lawyer, pah ! Yes ! Clerk to a pettifogging attor- 
ney ! ” 

This however was a considerable social gain on 
his father’s status. A small farmer whose corn- 
fields and vineyard were earned after thirty years’ 
incessant and laborious toil, and whose only ambi- 
tion was now to save enough to establish their be- 
loved idol in business when he should have studied 
law enough to plead before the petit sessions at 
Livone. 

Unfortunately, one day after a party where Jean 
Marie had lost considerably at cards, a rumor 
arose which echoed throughout the county side, 
and which Joseph recalled when he uttered, “ As 
if they did not know what kind of a fellow he was 
at Livone.” 

Seven or eight thousand francs had been taken 
that morning out of M. Lousseteau’s safe. The 
echo said that the lawyer was going to institute 
legal proceedings against some one. There were 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 119 

mysterious comings and goings between the farmer 
and the lawyer. Then the whole affair dropped 
quietly ; it was silenced, though never forgotten. 

One thing certain was that Jean Marie Bressac 
left Livone, and his parents told all inquirers that 
their son had gone to Paris to gain his fortune. 

Gone to Paris to gain his fortune. 

Gain a fortune — without knowing exactly how 
or by what means ; having taste for no business, 
but a great capacity for enjoying life. 

First he dabbled in wheat, then advertising, and 
stayed for some length of time a curbstone broker 
on the Bourse — the temple whose Corinthian col- 
umns open wide to allow all who choose to enter 
and lose their fortune. De Bressac was in many 
financial schemes, and many dupes would look for 
him and their vanished gold. 

The profession of broker had a charm for him. 
He could arrive late in the morning, just in time 
for lunch. It was useless to be at tlie Bourse 
early ; from two until four you could talk with your 
acquaintances. Friendships were here formed. 
Introductions casually given were often of great 
assistance. As long as he could make his five 
hundred to a thousand francs a month by watching 
the market, he was very content. After four o’clock, 


120 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


a walk along the boulevard and a stroll into his 
club, a few minutes at the card table, then home 
for dinner, after which the theater and a few social 
calls filled in the day. 

This is what Bressac liked. Studious, observing, 
acquiring little by little the manner and style of a 
society man, distrusting the fair sex completely, 
and firmly believing that rank did not alter the 
moral tone of women. To him his mother was the 
only virtuous woman that ever existed. 

As a boy he had been a great admirer of Raoul, 
Pontais, and of the Duke de Roquemont ; they had 
been companions at the Lycee. He remembered 
the intimacy on his arrival in Paris, and by them 
was introduced into society. As he made more 
money at cards than at the Bourse, he decided to 
live by them. His best friends did nothing, why 
should he not imitate them ? 

Four years after his arrival in Paris, Bressac was 
considered one of the most fashionable men — re- 
ceived in the best and most exclusive society. 

Occasionally it would be asked : 

“ Has he any money ? ” 

His friends would answer : 

“ He has sold his property in the South and has 
invested it well, and made a comfortable fortune.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


I 2 I 


How could society ask for a passport from this 
elegant gentleman, who gave his services so freely 
for all charitable societies. 

If a lady would inquire : 

“ You are from the South, aren’t you ? ” 

“ More than a Southerner, Madame — a Gascon, 
from the center of Gascony.” 

He was not a trifle afraid of the misconception 
most persons had of the South, thinking all South- 
erners lazy. Travelers were often much astonished 
at the industry of the Southern peasants, who were up 
before the lark, plowing and cultivating their farms. 

It was only the middle class that were generally 
indisposed to work. The peasant class were not 
only industrious, but ambitious besides. Bressac 
was brought up on a farm, knowing that his parents 
lived on black bread and vegetable soup, saving 
a cent with the thrifty prudence of an Israelite, with 
their object always in view — money for him. 

He had the habit of reflecting and directing his 
life .carefully. Brought up to be a soi-disant gen- 
tleman, he cared very little for his parents ; he con- 
sidered them his inferiors. Ashamed of their toil 
hardened hands and his mother’s peasant dres , 
he had, however, inherited their calculating spirit, 
looking for gain and benefit from everything. 


122 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


They had not, however, been able to transmit 
their honesty, as there had never been any intimacy 
between them. He was educated at school while 
they toiled morning, noon, and night for the means 
whereby he would be made a curse instead of a 
blessing to them. 

The hazard of Bressac’s life soon took the small 
remnant of honesty he possessed ; he was a scamp, a 
thorough-paced scoundrel, who hid his real nature 
under a polished exterior. He never intended to 
be a business man, knowing that unless a man had 
enough capital it was difficult to even gain a live- 
lihood. He was anxious to live luxuriously and 
without work. The Bourse allowed him to. 

Now he had gone beyond that point, and he was 
a society swell. 

“ Ah ! Bressac is a nice fellow, a good liver, a 
sportsman.” 

He was invited to parties every night, and each 
evening, after having paid his homage to the host- 
ess, he would seek the card room. The respect- 
able card room, where the cards are dealt while the 
dealers gossip about the last game, and where the 
stakes rarely exceed five francs. He pretended to 
play mechanically, while the young girls were 
angling for husbands. He, Bressac, never took up 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


123 


a card ; he would not permit the other players to 
guess the cards he held — he contented himself 
with winning two or three hundred francs, never 
more. This is what he lived on. He played cards 
as regularly as a workman goes to work. 

He used to find it profitable to assist Dame 
Fortune. 

“ It is not enough to trust to chance,” he would 
say to himself, “ she needs assistance.” 

If any one had ever suggested that Bressac 
cheated at cards, twenty voices would check the 
audacious one. 

“ Bressac a gambler ! ” said Roquemont ; “ what 
nonsense. He plays at small parties to make up a 
game through politeness, but you will never see him 
at a gambling table where there is high play, unless 
we forcibly carried him there.” 

This was a careful calculation on Bressac’s part, 
never to be induced to play with men only, or for 
high stakes. 

His rooms were a marvel of good taste in furnish- 
ing — so harmonious ; all old oak and bronze ; he 
detested gilt and tawdry furniture. 

None of his most intimate acquaintances ever saw 
a woman in his chambers. His friends’ lady-loves 
were always delighted to take supper at his place, it 


124 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


was always so recherche, and such delightful com- 
pany, though to himself he would say : 

“ The loveliest woman is not worth a good book, 
for my part.” 

He rather prided himself in being an artist in 
genre like others. He bought a zither at an 
auction and had hung it over his piano. (Who 
would imagine it was there only for ornament.) 

The following morning Bressac awoke feeling 
very well satisfied with his evening’s work at the 
Mercoeur’s. 

“ Well managed ; cleverly done.” 

Then he took up his mail and newspaper, which 
were on a table by his bedside. 

“ Ah ! The ! I never thought about it.” 

He rang. His valet, a model of Parisian servi- 
tude, answered promptly ; he was a most correct 
waiting man, with his well shaven face and black 
livery, though his expression denoted that he was 
as real a rascal as his master. 

“ Did you desire me, Monsieur ?” 

“ Has the bank sent any clerk here yet ? ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Here are five hundred francs to pay a note 
which they will collect.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 125 

It was admiration for his employer that kept this 
man in such respectful attention ; he, perhaps, the 
only person who guessed how de Bressac lived, and 
how he always paid his notes directly they were 
presented. 

“ One would think he dug the money up from a 
cache during the night, whenever he has a note to 
meet,” thought the valet. Never did this wise man 
allow paper of his to be protested. 

“ Antoine,” continued Bressac, “ breakfast for 
two. Let it be ready before twelve o’clock. You 
can go out at half-past eleven.” 

“ Certainly, Monsieur, your study is ready.” 
Study — why did Bressac have a study ? Why, be- 
cause every self-respecting man has a private den, 
where he is supposed to transact business, even 
though he has none. It is one of the details of Pari- 
sian life that is unescapable. 

Bressac had his own study, perhaps because he 
thought it was not good taste for a bachelor to own 
a drawing-room ; looked too pretentious. His study 
was carefully furnished, in excellent taste, with oak 
furniture, and tall book-cases, filled with books of 
philosophy and classical works, a bust of a Moorish 
woman in bronze, a stand of guns and curios, a 
saber on the wall, an exquisite etching of a forest 


126 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


scene by Hobbena, an oil painting by Detaille, and 
a wonderful autumn scene of Alphonse. 

The combined richness and artistic reunion gave 
the room to his eyes a real pleasure. This was all 
he had gained by close economy, and he had spent 
it on the garnishing of his own sanctum. 

This morning his thoughts were far from being 
gay ; he sat down at his desk and gazed mechanic- 
ally at the half-opened windows. 

The floor he occupied was a Rez de Chaussee on 
the Rue Las Cases, a quiet street ; and the inhabi- 
tants were eminently respectable and well to do ; 
nothing but the roll of private carriages ever dis- 
turbed their slumbers. After a long meditation he 
murmured : 

“ She is very nice, Mercoeur’s wife — nothing vulgar 
about her. She’s no doll of a woman. A woman ! 
Yes, a true woman. And I, Bressac, am nothing 
but an idiot. Mademoiselle Jeanne Berthout was 
about as anxious for a title as I covet the rank of 
Pope.” 

“ And I met her one morning at Mendun, 
romantically walking in the woods. It was a happy 
chance. If I had given six months of my valuable 
time, I could have won her. One month to com- 
plete her conquest, and the other five to captivate 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 127 

her mother, whom we buried so nicely last January. 
I would be rich and have espoused a delightful 
girl, and, if she wanted a chateau so badly, I could 
easily have bought her Mercoeur’s, which he sold 
for a ballet girl. Oh ! Bressac, you are an idiot ! 
Fool ! which is certainly a strong word to use to 
one’s self ; but in this case it’s correct. Fool ! I 
am more than that.” 

After a long hour of serious reflection, he added : 

“ More than a fool, it’s true ; but it’s never too 
late to retrace one’s steps.” 

He tried to imagine from what he had already 
seen, and his intimate knowledge of Mercoeur’s 
habits, how they lived, and what he did to pass 
away the time. Nothing, he could remember, 
though Raoul was thirty years old, denoted energy. 
Horses, duels, women, and wine had been his sole 
ambition. Stupid enough to go to the war, as his 
youth would have excused him from being called 
upon to bear arms. 

“ Women his ruin, and when he was ruined I led 
him as a child to the nuptial altar. Now he is as 
scrupulous as a bourgeois. There is nothing to 
him. His wife is worth a hundred of such as he. 
Their house is open to receive me. Mercoeur can’t 
find a cent at present. Why, I never had such a 


128 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


good chance before. I begin to feel I should like 
to be really rich, and this woman and her fortune 
are in my hands.” 

His valet had gone. Bressac was lying on a 
lounge before the window, making the plans of his 
campaign to gain wealth. It was the most difficult 
to execute that he had ever attempted during his 
life. 

Almost impossible but very tempting, very tempt- 
ing. He was so wrapped up in his dream that he 
had not heard a carriage stop at the door. 

This carriage could be seen every week with a 
single occupant who came to see him. She was 
carefully veiled ; so closely indeed that neither An- 
toine nor the concierge had ever been able to dis- 
cover who she was. The days she was expected 
the door was always left ajar. 

“Monsieur Jean Marie Bressac.” 

“ Ah, here you are.” 

“Did. you not expect me ; you appear aston- 
ished.” 

Quickly the veiled woman crossed the room and 
pulled down all the shades. “ What an infant you 
are; do you desire to compromise me?” 

Bressac remained silent. He thought, “Absur- 
dity of life ; when one thinks he has found the right 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


129 


combination, he forgets one of the most important 
agents.” 

The lady, unassisted, took off her long cloak and 
veil. 

Though she looked rather cross, Bressac smiled ; 
she was still a fine-looking woman, and to visit her 
lover she had taken extra pains with her usual 
elegant toilet. 

Bressac walked over to her and kissed her cheek. 
“ Breakfast is ready, my dear, will you take my 
arm ? ” 

“We have plenty of time for breakfast. I can 
spend the day with you.” 

A pair of precious adventurers, both ambitious 
players, taking delight in fishing in dirty water. 

They had lost all passions, all desires, and dis- 
trusting humanity whenever they themselves had 
any interest. With even these feelings Gaetana 
had cast her love, the expiring flame of a middle- 
aged woman, at Bressac’s feet. She was jealous 
and watchful, knowing how intense her love was and 
feeling that his was actuated almost by personal gain. 

Their liaison was a profound secret unknown ex- 
cept to themselves. 

It had commenced through a slight service ren- 
dered by her one evening at a ball given by a well- 


130 the price of a coronet. 

known duchess. Gaetana whispered to Bressac as 
he was bowing to her : 

“That insignificant little St. Leon has over ten 
thousand francs on his person ; nothing would give 
me more pleasure than to have him gamble it away. 
Can’t you assist him to lose it? ” 

Bressac maneuvered around St. Leon and brought 
him cleverly to suggest a game. 

“ Let's play a game of £carte, Bressac, before my 
cotillon commences ! ” 

St. Leon lost nine thousand of his ten. In leav- 
ing the ball-room Bressac offered Gaetana his arm, 
to escort her to her carriage. She offered him a 
seat. While seated next to her the perfume and 
warmth of her body almost intoxicated him ; he 
kissed her, and she returned it passionately. She 
was his at the first kiss. He spoke, after a mo- 
ment’s silence : 

“ I won, — well, we will divide the spoils.” 

Without hesitation she accepted. 

On entering his own home, the Gascon was 
alarmed at his temerity, and thought to himself, 
“ Is it possible that I am captured ? ” 

Then he added a quotation. He liked quota- 
tions, they showed he was educated. Nous faisons 
a nous deux un assemblage infame. 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 13 1 

Little by little they became more intimate, and 
revealed to each other the secrets of their hitherto 
unscrupulous existence. 

Bressac, at once grasping the situation and the 
entanglement that he had contracted with Gaetana, 
now saw how futile were his plans of the morning, 
and at once abandoned the idea. 

“ Have you paid your note ? ” asked Gaetana, as 
they were seating themselves at the table. 

“ Yes.” 

“ What amiable friend served for banker ? ” 

“The Marquis d’Essaumes and General Moustil, 
at Raoul de Mercoeur’s reception.” 

“ Ah ; then you have seen that worthy, have 
you ? Perhaps it's to your visit that I owe my 
invitation to their receptions on Thursdays. They 
must be quite patriarchal ; such a united family.” 

“ More than partiarchal, bourgeois ; and so com- 
monplace and vulgar that my friend Raoul is apt 
to forget he is a gentleman, and not keep his 
promise.” 

“ Why should he, more than another ? ” 

“ If you had only given me his note and promise 
the day after the funeral we should have been paid 
long ago.” 

“ Paid long ago ! that we could be kicked from 


I 3 2 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 


the door like any other satisfied creditor. This is 
my idea of your friend Mercoeur. Pleasant for us 
to hear, that the Mercoeurs would no longer re- 
ceive the Baroness San Rinazzi.” 

“ Great satisfaction, when one is not paid.” 

“ No, no ; the credit we give is necessary to 
maintain our position. They must receive us for 
two, three, perhaps five years, sociably, until we are 
paid. And as we shall in that time become almost 
one of the family they cannot, without giving scan- 
dal, drop us.” 

“ Well calculated as far as it goes, but they might 
not care, even after five years, if they dropped us.” 

“How could they afford to? It seems to me 
when a gentleman sells himself — a sale where there 
was as much love as barter. Yes, love ; have you 
read my friend Raoul’s character ! Can’t you see 
he is madly in love with his wife ; loves her as dearly 
as though he was only a lawyer’s clerk. Can’t you 
see he will not ask her for her signature, for fear of 
dishonoring himself in her eyes ? Yes, yes, dishon- 
oring himself. He has these vulgar prejudices still. 
Don’t you know they have only a million left, and 
it’s only with money that he earns himself that Mer- 
coeur will pay us ? Haven’t you been clever enough 
to see all this ? ” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


133 


“ Certainly I have had a presentiment that way 
and I am pleased that you are of the same opinion. 
It helps me wonderfully in a project I have in view. 
I want a close hold over the Count of Mercoeur so 
that I can use him and his name and that of his 
family.” 

“ Idle dreams; not practical.” 

“You seem very anxious to get the money. Is 
it that you want to buy a country villa and become 
a hermit ? Do you want to discontinue our rela- 
tions ? ” 

Bressac shrugged his shoulders and replied 
roughly : 

“ I am tired of living from hand to mouth. For- 
tune might go against me one day, the brilliancy of 
my life might die out if marked cards were found 
on me, and still I have to use such base means for 
procuring the necessary funds to live and keep up 
my present style and house. But if I had a capital 
of three hundred thousand francs in my hands to 
manipulate, as we know how, it would soon become 
a million.” 

“ Have you spoken to Raoul ? ” 

“ We had a highly dramatic interview. He has 
promised on his honor as a gentleman to pay us in 
September.” 


134 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


“ Very imprudent. And if in September he can’t 
pay, he is still a gentleman in spite of all you say. 
I can’t believe otherwise. That very honor of a 
gentleman will be our ruin, as he will kill himself, 
and we lose our only guarantee. This is what 
your friend is apt to do.” 

During the whole day Bressac could not drive 
Gaetana’s words from his mind, “ His honor as a 
gentleman would force him to commit suicide if he 
could not pay.” Was not this a solution to the 
calculation he had made that morning ? 

He allowed himself to remain passive to all Gae- 
tana’s endearments. 

“ I dare say it’s foolish on my part to try and get 
rid of the old love for a new, especially where the 
old has in her power my complete ruin, and in hi r 
jealousy would never hesitate to do it — to run af- 
ter a young woman who would be very indignant at 
my presumption if I ever mentioned a word of love. 
But, that is ” 

And already he wished the time would fly, so that 
he could call on Jeanne, as he would not wait until 
Thursday when she would be surrounded with 
friends, and where Gaetana doubtless would keep a 
watchful eye on him. 


XI. 


Whenever Bressac wanted to think out a project 
he would leave Paris, whose feverish unquiet pre- 
vented his cool, deliberate plans. The Bois was 
one of his favorite walks — not the fashionable por- 
tion of it where the gay world could be found riding 
and driving, but the quiet, retired walks, almost 
complete solitude, where he felt rested and could 
throw himself at the foot of some tree on the green 
grass and meditate. 

While seated under the tree, lost in thought, he 
saw the forms of two women before his eyes, Gae- 
tana’s, with her well-bred air and perfectly dressed, 
and her wonderful complexion ; and Jeanne’s, fresh 
and healthy. He had been fascinated with her 
the night previous ; her quick, abrupt way of speak- 
ing had taken his fancy. 

“Do I expect to mix love in my plans? Nice 
campaign, by my faith, to try and be third fiddle in 
a family in opposition to Gaetana’s predictions.” 

It was not sentimental love that occupied his ad- 
venturous mind, but a brutish desire, which was 


i35 


i 3 6 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


quite in keeping with his inner life. The days 
seemed interminable. Would they never pass? 
Paris could offer him no new attraction. First 
nights, races, receptions , petit soupers — they all bored 
him. He was bored with Gaetana, tired of cards, — 
always the same, — tired of his usual routine, and 
constantly meeting the same people. 

It seemed nothing strange to him that at this 
moment Jeanne’s shadow fell on the path near 
him. 

“She is charming,” he thought; “charming.” 
She was walking with the nurse, who carried a 
much beribboned baby. Raoul had not been able 
to accompany them, as to-day he was hunting the 
money for Gaetana and Bressac. The child was 
asleep, and Jeanne was watching the rosebud face, 
which to her was a reproduction of her adored 
Raoul’s. 

At the moment while passing in front of Bressac, 
the nurse slipped and the baby almost fell. Bres- 
sac caught the child and held it while the nurse re- 
gained her footing. 

“I thank you, Monsieur,” said Jeanne. She 
scarcely looked at the man ; her whole attention 
was riveted on the child, whose slumber had not 
been broken. Bressac replied : 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


*3 7 


“ I thank my good fortune that brought me to 
the Bois to*day.” 

Jeanne slightly bowed as she was arranging the 
baby’s cloak. Bressac walked by her side, trying 
to find some word that would open a conversation, 
something that she would have to answer. 

Jeanne felt very uneasy. She had again seen 
the lines in Raoul’s forehead, this mark of sorrow 
which had darkened their lives once before. What 
misfortune had befallen him? Unfortunate busi- 
ness transactions. Raoul had told her the night 
before that Bressac had come on business ; perhaps 
he was going to speak to her about it. But no. 
The Gascon spoke about family affairs, the baby, 
and ordinary topics of conversation, and Jeanne 
began to understand why he was so much sought 
after in the salons. There was not a grain of 
maliciousness in his talk ; he recalled laughingly to 
her mind their first meeting under the trees at 
Meudon one early June morning. 

“It’s my fortune always to meet you in the 
woods ; only the first time I must have frightened 
you, as you fled.” 

It was so, she had run away, frightened at some- 
thing she could not understand. Since then, how- 
ever, her first impressions had been effaced. She 


1 3 8 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

was grateful to Bressac for his sympathy at her 
mother’s funeral. Yesterday also he had been so 
agreeable as to charm all her other guests ; as 
though he guessed it was not pleasant to them 
both to have to keep up a general conversation, he 
had cleverly come to their aid. And his gener- 
osity toward the poor, perhaps too ostensible. 
The Marquise L’Essaumes had pronounced him 
charming. Ought she not to make her home pleas- 
ant so that Raoul would never want to leave it ? 
Ought she not to like her husband’s friends ? And 
she knew that Bressac was the oldest he had. 
Raoul had told her they were at college together, 
and college friends are usually the most sincere; 
and besides, last evening Bressac had been fasci- 
nated with her conversation ; he had tried to study 
her character, to divine her weakest points. A 
woman of her type could not lie, and in a little 
time her words would inform him thoroughly re- 
garding her feelings. No coquetry in her, a gentle 
smile on her lips. “The same smile for every 
thing,” Bressac said. 

“ Don’t you know, Madame, that Raoul deserves 
a good scolding for leaving you alone ? ” 

“ Monsieur de Mercoeur has his business to 
attend to. Monsieur.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 139 

The smile left Jeanne’s lip as she said this, but it 
quickly returned at the sight of her child, just 
awakened. Bressac, who had never played with a 
child in his life, tried to render his voice caressing 
to speak to the little one. 

“ How pleasant it must be to have a child of 
one’s very own. Is it not so, Madame ? ” 

They had been talking together, though the con- 
versation was all on his side. Jeanne, desirous of 
creating sympathy for her husband and his family, 
disarmed by his character of the previous evening, 
and thinking that perhaps after the gay dinner of 
the night before that the evening would appear 
dull to Raoul, said to Bressac, when leaving : 

“ If you have no other engagement, Monsieur 
Bressac, come and take dinner with us; my husband 
will be charmed, I am sure.” 

On her return home she said to Raoul : 

“ I have invited Monsieur Bressac to dinner.” 
Raoul paled, and in a trembling voice said : 

" You have then seen him ? ” 

“ Yes, I went for a walk with nurse and baby, 
and we met M. Bressac on one of the by-paths. 
We had a long talk. Are you angry ? ” 

“ I angry ? No, Jeanne, indeed no ; only I 
should infinitely have preferred spending the even- 


140 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


ing alone with you. I have no anxiety to invite 
others to participate in our happiness.” 

“You say that, Raoul, to-day; to-morrow you 
may say otherwise. A man and husband who 
desires no other company than his wife and child 
is a curiosity. I don’t want you to be that. Have 
we not decided that we will entertain our friends ? 
Besides, your cousins ought to come.” 

Raoul made no reply. 

“ I have, then, done wrong in inviting Monsieur 
Bressac,” said Jeanne. “ If so, I shall believe you 
are not good friends. What is it? ” 

“ No, I have not quarreled with him.” 

“ Why do you look so cross, then. You ought 
to confide in me.” 

“Jeanne, Jeanne, you are trying to make moun- 
tains out of a grain of sand.” 

She felt that there was a false ring in Raoul’s 
voice. He was not happy as they had been. 
Jeanne saw he tried to force a laugh and drive the 
frown from his forehead. She thought he was 
ready to cry. 

“ Raoul, my husband, are there some people who 
come here that you don’t like ? ” 

“ No, my wife, you have a very vivid imagina- 
tion and have such strange ideas.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 14 1 

Jeanne was sure that there was some secret. 

'What secret? Oh ! how she would like to fathom 
it, and she continued : 

“Raoul, do you like to have Mme. San Rinazzi 
or not ; or is it the Duchess of Roquemont that 
you dislike ? ” 

“ Really, Jeanne, you want to know more than I 
do myself." 

She was silenced but not satisfied, and hurt at 
his apparent silence and want of confidence in her. 
In her anxiety about him she did not notice that 
Bressac’s visits were becoming more frequent than 
their acquaintanceship would warrant, and on her 
reception days he was always near her. 

Gaetana remarked it all, and, without troubling 
herself to inquire the reason, as her innate vanity 
led her to believe that Bressac was comparing her 
superior charm to that of the petite bourgeoise , and 
in speaking to her friend one evening (they had 
just left the Mercoeurs, and as she was so very 
circumspect she had left fully half an hour before 
he did, but they met on the next block) : 

“Honestly now," said she, “would you not 
rather offer your arm to the Countess of Mercoeur 
in preference to the Baroness San Rinazzi ? " 

“ Are you bereft of your reason, my love?" 


142 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


“ Mon cher, all the guests noticed how attentive 
you were to your hostess.” 

“ If the guests remarked it, they must have been 
very vulgar people. All the gentlemen ought to be 
attentive to the lady of the house where they are 
visiting ; it’s almost the elementary part of polite- 
ness.” 

“ Is it then through elementary politeness that 
you go there every day to inquire about her health, 
or follow her to the Bois, and walk with her on 
secluded paths ? Sigh when you offer her a cup of 
tea ? My friend, if I were in Raoul’s place.” 

Bressac interrupted her, saying : 

“ Would you be jealous ? ” 

“ Perhaps.” 

He, the adventurer, burst out laughing — a harsh, 
dry laugh. 

“ Don’t you know I am looking after our com- 
mission ?” 

Gaetana laughed, too ; all her suppositions had 
vanished. 

The last Thursday in July Jeanne had been 
awaiting Raoul. The usual dinner hour had long 
passed, and she was getting fidgety at his unusual 
tardiness. In going out he had appeared in good 
spirits, almost too gay ; his last words were : 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 143 

“ To-day I expect to close a business transaction 
of considerable importance. The profits will be 
large, without risking much capital.” 

Jeanne only said : 

“ Be prudent." 

The day had gone, no Raoul. 

Jeanne had seen the baby put to bed ; now she 
was fixing a bouquet of flowers on the tea table in 
the salon. 

“ Why does not Raoul come back ; he knows it’s 
our last reception ! ” Not a word. Why had he 
been talking of hoping to make a considerable 
profit for the past few days without consulting her ? 

She had been brought up commercially, and 
knew a great deal more of business than he did. 
She decided she would ask him frankly what busi- 
ness he was in. If it was necessary to sacrifice 
part of her fortune to recover their former happi- 
ness, she would gladly do so. She has had enough 
of this separation day after day, and her husband’s 
restless nights ; he seemed never to rest. 

The evening was growing late ; no guests had 
fortunately yet arrived. The silence of the salon 
was only disturbed by the rumbling of carriages 
and the cry of the newspaper boys crying an extra. 
“ A great crisis,” they said. 


144 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


She must get a paper, perhaps some accident had 
happened to Raoul. She hastily opened a window 
and hailed a boy, and inquired what the extra was 
about. An accident. 

The boy yelled out : 

“ A great failure of the Credit d’Unification ! ” 

“A suicide of Monsieur de M ” 

Paris will long remember this great failure. The 
news spread like lightning. In the financial ruin 
many other houses of long established credit fell. 
Men were afraid to look each other in the face for 
fear of finding a creditor. All the stockholders 
were ruined. The loss was enormous. 

Raoul had heard of the suspension on the 
Bourse. 

The Unification of Credit, that prosperous bank- 
ing concern, where on the following day he was to 
become a stockholder and invest a portion of his 
wife’s fortune, was now a ruin. 

He had spent the day leaning against a post, his 
head seemed ready to burst ; he was unconscious 
of the flight of time. 

Bressac came to hear about the crash, and met 
him. 

“ How pale you are. Is all your fortune gone 
up ? ” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 145 

“ No, no, only I had hoped to make up my in- 
debtedness through its agency.” 

“ I only asked, as I had heard you had bought a 
good deal of its stock.” 

Bressac left. Raoul began to reflect. He had 
certainly bought some stock, coaxed to by the 
Duke de Pry. He had expected to make sixty 
thousand francs by the transaction. He took out 
his visiting card and began to calculate. The 
figures danced before his eyes. His agent told him 
that his losses exceeded one hundred thousand, and 
that he would only have three days wherein to 
pay it. 

A new debt of one hundred thousand added to 
the already existing three hundred thousand. He 
left the Bourse disconsolate and ashamed of having 
lied to his wife for the past month. He had con- 
tracted this new debt on credit, his broker having 
furnished the means. He had recklessly gone to 
him and at the advice of others taken the stock of 
the now ruined company. 

Even Bressac felt badly over the losses his friend 
had sustained, and inwardly thanked his good 
fortune at not having been paid by Raoul or else 
as likely as not he too would have shared the 
universal ruin. 


146 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

Dining alone at the club, he was almost 
frightened at the new checkmate Raoul had 
received. He guessed correctly from his face that 
he had been a loser. 

“Poor Mercoeur has no luck ; none at all. His 
reception will be a dull one, no one will be there 
but perhaps Gaetana. Roquemont is consulting 
his broker. I guess the Marquis D’Essaumes and 
General Moustil are doing the same. It’s impossi- 
ble to deny that many worthy people will lose 
their all.” 

All around him people had been rudely aroused 
but he alone had been spared. This idea inflated 
his pride. Bressac felt proud to think that he 
alone had escaped the general devastation. 

Bringing back his wandering thoughts to their 
usual current, he thought of Jeanne. Jeanne, sor- 
rowful and angry, asking Raoul for an explanation 
for the cause of his detention and the look of 
sorrow his face too well expressed. 

Weak characters never know how to excuse 
themselves. 

“Still, he will have to pay a round hundred 
thousand before the end of the month, his broker 
told me so. Here is another vexatious delay 
for me.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


147 


Knowing that very few of his and the Mercoeur’s 
friends had escaped unscathed, and that no one 
would care to visit sociably when such an import- 
ant event had occurred, he was afraid almost to go. 
Perhaps, however, Raoul had not returned home yet, 
and hastily descending the stairs of the club he 
ordered the porter to call a passing cab, telling 
the driver to go quickly to the Faubourg St. 
Honore. 

It was Jeanne herself who opened the door. 

“ Raoul ? ” 

“ Is he not here ? ” 

“ I have not seen him since two o’clock.” 

She invited him to come in the house. 

“ Do you bring m-e bad news ? ” 

“ No, Madame, none.” 

They remained silent for a few moments. Bres- 
sac felt his superiority. He was better than the 
little fellow she had married, he thought. The idea 
intoxicated him. 

“Raoul has doubtless been kept by some friends, 
Madame.” 

“ He ought to have sent me word, and why are 
all the newsboys crying about a failure ; and 
another thing that troubles me, none of our friends 
have come as usual.” 


148 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

The uncertainty alarmed Jeanne, a few tears 
began to roll down her cheek. She felt almost 
abandoned, at that moment her nerves gave way 
and she could not restrain her tears. She felt some 
danger but could not guess whence it would come, 
and she sat on the lounge looking anxiously toward 
the door, desirous to hear Raoul’s footstep when 
he should approach. She felt fainting, and me- 
chanically unhooked the top hooks of her waist, 
quite forgetting that there was a man in the room. 

“ Leaving me alone all the time ; I am so ner- 
vous,” she cried, “ great goodness.” 

Bressac had clasped her hand, the vanity existent 
in most men had led him to believe that in her 
despair she had desired some token of his regard 
and friendship. 

Jeanne instantly arose. Bressac’s eyes were 
fixed on hers, glittering with the light of passion. 
Poor girl, she imagined from his behavior that he, 
the intimate friend of her husband, had come to 
announce some accident which had befallen Raoul. 
She gasped. 

“ Speak, sir, tell me quickly. I would like to 
know, I am brave, do not be afraid ! ” 

He answered her appeal brutally : 

“Jeanne, I love you ! You are tied to a weak 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


149 


man, a man not worthy of you, I want to snatch 
you from him ! ” 

He tried to clasp her round the waist in his im- 
petuous desire to possess her. She suddenly 
wrenched both her hands away, and Bressac felt a 
stinging blow on his cheek. 

“ You villain ! You brute ! ” 

Then she stopped, hearing the door open. 
Raoul was entering, tremblingly, knowing his 
strength was exhausted and his fight against chance 
was lost. 

The young woman cried : 

“ Monsieur de Mercoeur, this man has insulted 
me, throw him out of the house ! ” 

The identical words Jeanne had used came 
spontaneously to Raoul’s lips, he cried, “ You vil- 
lain ! ” 

Jeanne fell back on a chair trembling, and 
closed her eyes. 

She had seen her husband grasp Bressac and 
shake him, the thought of a duel about her. 

Why did Raoul hesitate and not pitch the ruffian 
out of the window. She heard not a blow. Raoul 
had let Bressac go. She opened her eyes. It was 
Bressac who held Raoul by the shoulders and was 
coolly saying : 


15 ° THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 

“ If you dare strike me, your wife shall receive 
the letter you wrote before marrying her.” Then 
he added : 

“ Your insults don’t amount to a row of pins, a 
creditor cannot fight with his debtor, you must pay 
before.” 

Raoul stood still. He regretted he had not 
drowned himself in the Seine. Any other day he 
would have killed his tormentor, but to-day he had 
not the courage. • 

Better, indeed, had not Jeanne heard a word, as 
the revelation of his secret, after all she had lately 
passed through, would have killed her. 

Bressac went up and wickedly said in a mocking 
voice : 

“ Au rcvoir, Madame.” 

And Bressac left. 

After he had gone tears came to Raoul’s eyes, 
and he went over to her, and tried to kneel at her 
side. He could not, nor did he speak one word, 
for emotion had benumbed him. Quickly he left 
the room. . 

Jeanne sat up straight, paralyzed almost, and for 
a long time remained motionless. She could not 
understand what withheld her husband from chas- 
tising the man who had so grossly insulted her. 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 15 1 

Her husband — a coward. 

She rang the bell. Joseph came to take her 
orders. 

“Joseph, it’s not likely we shall have any com- 
pany to-night, but if any one comes, say I am very 
indisposed, and that I cannot see visitors.” 

And while talking to Joseph, she saw near 
the divan where Bressac had been seated some 
pieces of cardboard. She stooped and picked 
them up, remembering that while struggling with 
the villain something had fallen out of his 
pocket. 

They were playing cards. 

Joseph, with the respectful familiarity of south- 
ern servants, where indeed they are like part of the 
family, said : 

“ Will you let me see them, Madame ? ” 

Unconsciously she handed him the cards. He 
examined them carefully, and quickly he exclaimed 
in an angry voice : 

“ Ah, Madame ! ” 

“What is it?” 

“ I always had my doubts — these are — oh, but 
you do not want to know about such things.” 

Jeanne was enlightened, but she said : 

“Return them to me, Joseph. You love your 


152 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


parents ; well, swear to me by your love of them 
that no one shall ever hear about this.” 

“ Ah, poor Madame ! ” 

And while the poor wife was leaving the room, 
rigid, and her tears had ceased to flow, tears ran 
down the cheeks of the faithful servant. 


XII. 


Jeanne felt dumfounded. 

Stunned almost, her eyes fixed on the back of 
the chair where Raoul usually sat ; her tears re- 
mained unshed. She tried to think, but could not. 

She was mortified to think her husband was a 
coward. 

A wretch had insulted her. She had called her 
husband to defend her, and he had not. For a long 
time she thought over it, until daylight and sound 
of the sweeper cleaning the street aroused her 
from her lethargy. 

She wished to believe it was a dream, some horri- 
ble nightmare ! 

How could it be. She was not in bed, but still 
seated in her boudoir, her favorite room, and she 
still held in her hands the marked cards that had 
fallen from Bressac’s pocket. 

Raoul a coward ! How could he be when his re- 
cord during the war credited him with a perilous 
bravery, and he had often fought duels. No, no, 
why had he trembled before Bressac ? 

i53 


X 


154 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

Bressac, the liar and gambler, hypocrite, card 
swindler, a meanest kind of a thief ! And yet this 
scoundrel was his oldest friend, college chum. 

She went into their bedroom, thinking perhaps 
to find Raoul ; but the room was empty. The very 
solitude of the room caused her anguish, and made 
her remember her girlhood. 

“ Father, oh, father, where are you ?” 

The remembrance of her beloved parent brought 
tears to her eyes, and she wept, murmuring as 
she pictured in her mind the factory and his 
cheery office, where she first learned to read at his 
side. 

“ Poor father, I have almost forgotten you, so 
wrapt up was I in my husband." 

Quickly she drew her hand across her eyes, 
ashamed almost and indignant with herself. 

“ What kind of society do I frequent ? ” And 
there defiled before her eyes the Roquemonts, the 
baroness, and Captain Lira. Who were those 
people ? She had always disliked them and de- 
spised their company. Her instinctive presenti- 
ments had been correct. 

“ It’s mortifying to have been a puppet in the 
hands of such society, surrounded by them as I 
have been. Wretches, I hate them all ! ” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 155 

In vain she looked to find truth and ease her 
mind. 

One thing certain, she had married a ruined 
gentleman, and this gentleman had married her for 
gain. His love was not genuine. 

Raoul had never loved her. His kisses and 
honeyed words were lies. Their happy life at 
Bellevue was a fraud, all false. 

“ No, no, Raoul did not love her, she was certain. 
But if it were possible that he did not. She would 
rather not believe it, it would be too cruel for her 
who loved him so. Why, willingly she would lay 
down her life for his.” 

Why had Bressac become so intimate ? 

Bressac and Gaetana were lovers, rumor said, 
yet no one could affirm it. What villainous scheme 
had made Bressac pretend to love her ? She knew 
it was not true love, yet she remembered she had 
trembled when he approached her, the villain. She 
had trembled because his eyes had such a strange 
light and because his hand that had clasped hers 
was burning with fever of desire and brutal pas- 
sion. 

This apparent infatuation on the part of Bressac 
she could not understand. But it had happened, 
so that was all to be said about it. 


156 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

She thought of the situation and she pondered 
over a thousand and one details that could have 
occurred to destroy her happiness and explain 
Raoul’s cowardice. She instinctively felt it was 
only sham cowardice. She thought suddenly, 
“ some secret ! ” 

“ A secret, a bond between these men. Col- 
lege friends, then gay bachelors, both petted 
darlings of society, Bressac had been equally well 
received as Raoul, though he had no income, and 
her husband had spent his. What had they lived 
on ?” 

Little by little the youthful look left her face 
and her features became hard and strained. It 
was no longer the face of a joyous girl and wife. 
Now she felt alone, an orphan, and as the mother 
of Raoul’s child it behooved her to look the matter 
squarely in the face with courage. 

Naturally she was angry and indignant, but her 
spirit felt sore, the heart would hurt her worst. 
Raoul, Bressac’s friend, had perhaps lived as he 
did, — by play. 

“ Merciful God, have pity ! Oh, not that ; I 
would rather see him dead ! ” 

She had almost a vision ; her husband appeared 
holding marked cards in his hand. 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 157 

“ It’s not possible that Raoul, my beloved, has 
ever committed such an infamous thing as cheating 
at cards. I am crazy to think of it, — Still ! ” 

This idea had taken root. She thought, “This is 
then the bond that unites them, and that villain 
holds perhaps some proof against Raoul that he has.” 

Her lips refused to utter “ cheated.” 

The thought that they must separate gave her a 
moment’s peace. She could easily obtain a limited 
divorce. If the Courts would not grant it she 
would live apart, as a woman has no right to de- 
mean herself by living with a man who can’t pro- 
tect her honor. 

The scandal and the newspapers would glory in 
the news and revel in the thought of having 
brought her name down into the gutter of every- 
day gossip. 

“ My name — it’s not mine, it’s my husband’s. 
Mine is Jeanne Berthout, my dear father’s name. 
But my son, my son will have to bear his father’s 
name and title one day.” 

“Jean, my child, I ought to think of your happi- 
ness and welfare before my own. I forgot all 
about you in my selfishness.” 

Quickly she ran into the adjoining room, where 
the baby slept with his nurse. 


158 * THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

“ You will console me, my darling/’ 

Before the door she hesitated a moment ; the 
child would no doubt be fast asleep. She must not 
wake him, so she opened the door softly. 

When she entered the room a surprise awaited 
her ; a very joyful one, however, and for a few 
moments almost made her forget her errand. 

Close by the bed, with one hand holding the 
child's, sat her husband, sobbing, with his head 
buried in the pillow. He did not hear his wife 
enter. 

His sobs and the nurse’s loud breathing alone 
could be heard. 

Raoul all at once felt his wife’s hand on his 
shoulder. 

“ Jeanne ! ” 

As on the previous evening he could say nothing 
else, only he let the baby’s hand go and moved his 
chair farther from the bed so as to make way for 
the mother to see her child. 

They looked at each other a minute, but not a 
word of reproach on either side. 

It’s certainly a fact that Raoul would have 
infinitely preferred an explosion of anger, not 
the stony gaze that his wife bestowed on him. 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 1 59 

His wife treated him as a stranger because he 
had acted like a coward in her presence, and be- 
cause he, a gentleman, had not had the courage to 
vindicate her, his wife, though she was the daugh- 
ter of a mechanic. He was ashamed before this 
woman, and felt so humble before her glance that 
he dared not break the silence ; he was awaiting 
her sentence to condemn him into exile. He was 
no longer the head of the house. 

The silence became unsupportable, and he rose 
from his chair and said : 

“ You look weary. Go and lie down.” 

Another long silence followed these words, which 
were spoken in a trembling voice. 

Then Jeanne coolly said, “ I will rest in my 
child’s room, for the future of my existence be- 
longs to him alone.” 

This was the decision she had arrived at while 
standing by the slumbering child’s bed. She was 
afraid of a legal separation, a scandal ; afraid of the 
solitary life of a woman ; afraid one day to have to 
say to her son that his father, the Count of Mer- 
coeur, was a scamp and coward. 

Though very indignant, still her mother-heart 
had been touched by the sight of her husband 
sobbing at his child’s side. She had thought 


160 TliE price of A CORONET. 

that she alone had the right to bring the child 
up. 

“ You can have our room, Monsieur de Mer- 
coeur ; I will occupy this one.” 

Raoul immediately walked toward the door, when 
a cry escaped Jeanne’s lips : 

“ Raoul ! ” 

He came back to her side at once, but all kind 
feeling had left Jeanne’s face. She was very pale, 
and had a look as though she would ask for an 
explanation ; it was not possible that their mutual 
happiness must come to such an abrupt conclusion. 

Raoul understood all she would say, but the 
weakness of his character, bruised as he now felt, 
rendered it impossible for him to speak first. Very 
soon he turned to leave the room. 

So his life was ended. 

He did not dare stay in their room, the room 
where some of the happiest hours of his life had 
been passed ; he went to the smoking-room, the 
only room in the house he felt he had a right to be, 
because all the furniture in it had come from his 
bachelor rooms. 

“ What’s the good of struggling now ? ” he said. 
“ Why should I strive and get that money, misfor- 
tune pursues me so persistently. Then, again, that 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 161 

loss to-day. Well, it’s all over. I had nothing to 
pay that hundred thousand francs. I need only 
say the word to Jeanne. But my conduct before 
her yesterday. Ah ! coward ! coward ! I ought 
to have killed that fellow. But I am not an assas- 
sin. And Bressac would have informed Jeanne of 
the whole transaction. I am in his clutches ; he 
can order, I must obey. With the secret he pos- 
sesses he can force me to commit almost anything, 
however infamous. Infamy, did I not commit 
it when I married the way I did ? And even 
yesterday I had not the force to protect my in- 
sulted wife ; I, a gentleman. I am crazy ! ” 

“ No, I was prudent ; I would rather have my 
wife think me a coward than know the ignominious 
way I prepared to marry her. Our love — that’s 
ended ; but if our love is all over, what am I 
doing here ? ” 

He brusquely arose and took down a pistol that 
was hanging over the mantle-piece. 

“ Self-destruction is the acme of cowardice, but 
as I am a coward anyway I have the right to blow 
my brains out.” 

He calmly put the cartridges in the breech. 
“My dear friend of 1870, I am still able to load 
you.” 


162 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET 


Suddenly his pistol was snatched from his hand, 
Jeanne stood by his side ; a light of joy lit up her 
beautiful eyes. 

“ You are not a coward, darling ; you were going 
to kill yourself ! ” 

Raoul sadly replied : 

“ Why did you prevent me ? It’s better that I 
should die, as our happiness is over.” 

“ Listen, Raoul. Since yesterday I have been 
waiting and listening. I want to hear from you a 
word explaining your conduct. You never were 
afraid, were you ! Then why did you not throw 
that scoundrel downstairs and break his neck ? 
Speak, I beseech you ; tell me the secret that binds 
you to that man ? Tell me if he ever saved your 
life ? Tell me that there is some honorable excuse 
for your cowardice of yesterday ! Raoul, you 
never did anything wicked. What ! are you afraid 
to tell me ? I, who have no one but you ; yes, you 
and our son ; I will not give you up ! Here, by 
our child’s crib, swear to me that the bond that ties 
you to Bressac is only a youthful indiscretion. We 
can forget that together. I beg of you to tell me 
that it’s nothing that has occurred since you have 
known me. Can’t you speak ?” 

Raoul slowly said : 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 163 

“Jeanne, there are events sometimes in men’s 
lives that are secrets, dreadful secrets, as you have 
guessed. I cannot tell you this one, because I love 
you and because I will not sully our love.” 

Jeanne put her hand in her bosom and drew out 
the marked cards. 

“ And if I have guessed this secret ? If chance 
has been kind enough to furnish the proof.” 

Raoul trembled. 

“ Here,” cried Jeanne, “ I know your secret. Do 
you see these cards that Bressac had in his pocket ? 
I did not see anything wrong with them, but Joseph 
says they are marked.” 

Raoul cried in an indignant voice : 

“ Stop, Jeanne ! This is not my secret. I swear 
to you by our child’s love, by my life, it’s not this ! ” 

Jeanne mutely asked herself, “What could be 
worse than playing with marked cards ? Her gen- 
erous instincts faded ; the mouth that was ready 
almost to pardon became rigid when Raoul, with his 
eyes cast down, said : 

“ There are crimes not recognized by the law ; 
crimes which modern society excuses. I was guilty 
of one of these infamous actions, and you were 
the innocent object. You alone have the right to 
ask an accounting ; that is why I cannot tell you.” 


164 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

Jeanne’s face hardened and she withdrew her 
hand, which she had given her husband. It was 
by seeing her so indulgent toward him that Raoul 
was almost ready to ask her pardon and avow his 
fault. Now he did not dare speak. 

“You see, Madame, it would be better to let me 
die.” 

“ Die ! You have not the right.” 

Jeanne almost guessed the truth. Raoul was 
guilty toward her, her alone. Her loyalty and 
honesty had to be appeased, but her love for him 
would prevent her from wishing his death. What 
she had witnessed on the previous evening had 
almost shattered her faith in him ; still, woman-like, 
she loved him, even though he was guilty of what 
she did not dare imagine. Still, her love could 
survive any indiscretion if he would only tell her 
and vow amendment for the future, and so she 
would hope against hope. 

“ No, Raoul, you have not the right to kill your- 
self, because you must help to bring up our 
child.” 

“You can do that better than I, Jeanne.” 

“ A Mercoeur must bring up a Mercoeur.” 

“ But you bear the name more worthily than I 
do, Madame.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 165 

“ I will never bear it, Monsieur, if you are un- 
worthy to carry it.” 

“ So, knowing my unworthiness, will you consent 
to live under the same roof with me ? ” 

‘‘Under the same roof, yes. With you, no! 
Our child has the right to ask us to conceal our 
domestic troubles and present to the world an ap- 
pearance of perfect harmony. We alone will know 
otherwise.” 

“ That is impossible, Madame ; to ask me to live 
like a stranger to my own wife.” 

“ Do you desire me to explain more fully, Mon- 
sieur ? I think that when disgrace has separated 
man and wife, they ought to consider their lives as 
ended. They must obliterate themselves com- 
pletely, and only live for their offspring. Of us 
three, the only one who has any right to dic- 
tate terms is the Viscount de Mercoeur. And I 
swear to you that if you kill yourself, I will tell 
your son that his father was an infamous scoun- 
drel ! ” 

“ Jeanne, Jeanne, you won’t do that ? ” 

“ I never lie, Monsieur.” 

“Very well, I consent.” 

“ If you wish it we will leave Paris.” 

“ Leave Paris ; where will you go ? ” 


i66 


THE PRICE OE A CORONET. 


“ Have you forgotten that Mercoeur belongs to 
us?” 

Mercoeur, the home of his ancestors. The house 
where he was born, and where the memory of his 
parent’s loyalty still lived. 

“Yes, yes, let’s go there.” 

His native place was like a plank cast to a drown- 
ing man. There was a chance yet left him. In the 
excitement of Parisian life the thought of his friends 
there had been forgotten. Doubtless, there he 
would be able to borrow the money he needed, 
and after the debt was paid he could kill himself. 

It was a sublime thought that had come to his 
wife. 

Jeanne felt instinctively that, though a grievous 
fault had been committed by her husband, still he 
was an honest man. 

Raoul, young and giddy, had lived a fast life, and 
doubtless had allowed himself to be inveigled into 
some dishonorable scheme ; something that she 
could not be told ; he was going to punish the 
misstep by a pistol shot. Jeanne did not want to 
lose her husband. 

“ He is mine, I have him ; no one else has the 
right to take him from me.” 

She loved him and had always done so since 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 167 

they first met. Perhaps, woman-like, she even 
loved him more now, as he was at her mercy ; he 
had not defended her honor, but he was willing to 
die for dear love's sake. Her love for him was 
that of a fond mother, who always clings to the 
prodigal child. 

He was guilty. He had acknowledged it. Guilty 
before her. How could she continue to esteem 
a man whom she knew was — all she asked 
was that he would forget the past and be a 
good husband and father to their child for the 
future. 

After all, how could he, the valiant soldier and 
well-bred gentleman, who was willing to shed his 
blood for atonement, be guilty of a criminal 
action ? 

No, the others were the guilty ones ; he had 
been their unconscious accomplice, and it was her 
duty as a wife to unloosen these miserable fetters. 

To return to Mercoeur. She was so glad to 
take him from Paris and the giddy whirlpool that 
sought to engulf them. 

“ Then the associations at Mercoeur will help 
him toward oblivion, and he is my husband. I 
won't give him up.” 

This idea dominated over all others, and her 


i68 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 


face became radiant with love and the trusting de- 
votion of a loving wife, and she smiled as she said 
to herself : 

“ There, I can, if necessary, regenerate him. I 
can control his actions there. My love, my Raoul, 
I will save you — I, your wife.” 


XIII. 


Paris awoke to see a sorrowful day. The work- 
people asked each other, “ Have you read the 
papers ? ” 

Long columns in all the dailies gave full particu- 
lars of the failure, which was dominated under the 
title of “ Le Krach.” 

After the first moment of stupor, the long list of 
names whose fortunes had been swamped, almost ter- 
rified the shop-keepers ; but for the working peo- 
ple it was almost a fttc. 

“ Glad enough for those aristocrats,” said they ; 
“ it will teach them a lesson.” 

Jeanne and Raoul were seated at the breakfast 
table, silent; but determined to carry on the out- 
ward appearance before the servants. Before them 
loomed a life of misery ; though Jeanne was 
confident that the trip to Mercoeur would cause 
her husband to confess his fault to her. Raoul 
wished his life was ended, only he wished to see his 
aunt and confide in her, and ask her to save his 
honor ; then could he terminate his wretched exist- 
ence with a shot. 


169 


170 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

Jeanne would think of him kindly when he was 
dead, and would forget that he had been guilty 
toward her. 

This was his last desire. 

As they had both slept after the discussion of 
the previous night, it was late when they had break- 
fast, and only now were they reading their letters. 
Lucky chance had sent Jeanne a letter from Ma- 
demoiselle de Lansac, full of reproaches at their 
neglect. 

“ The baby was nearly four months old and she 
had never seen him.” 

Raoul paid no attention to his aunt’s letter, but 
appeared highly interested in one he had just opened. 
So as not to interrupt him, Jeanne mechanically 
opened a paper, and the first line that caught her 
eye was the article describing the ruin caused by 
the failure, and she saw almost at the top the follow- 
ing notice : 

rt We noticed leaning against the portico of the 

Bourse the Count de M , who, when his own 

finances were at low ebb, married the only daughter 
and heiress of a rich manufacturer, whose fortune, 
since he has handled it, will fast follow his own. 
However, it’s lucky for his creditors that the fortune 
of his wife will enable him to liquidate his losses.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 17 1 

This notice struck J eanne like a revelation. Here 
was the reason. 

She showed Raoul the paper and anxiously asked 
if this explained his conduct. Would he say, 
“ This, dear, was the direct cause of my cowardice 

and what I called explaining ” Explain. But 

no, Raoul read the notice and said : 

“ I had almost forgotten this. This paper and a 
letter from my broker now recall it to my mind. I 
hope you will forgive me, Jeanne. Hoping in my 
usual luck, I speculated in an enterprise that all my 
friends advised me to. I have been unfortunate 
enough to lose.” 

“ How much ? ” 

“ My broker says about a hundred thousand 
francs.” 

He spoke the above words simply, knowing be- 
forehand what Jeanne would say. 

“ He must be paid immediately.” 

And she said it without a word of reproach, and 
went over to her desk to sign the necessary docu- 
ments that would allow Raoul to dispose of part of 
her capital to pay this debt. She was so joyful at 
the prospect of going south. 

Paris ! Paris ! The city where she was born 
and bred disgusted her. She tried hard to remem- 


172 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


ber her father and his factory, and the pleasantness 
of her childhood, but somehow they were partially 
effaced in her present sorrow. The Paris of her 
youth had vanished, and, like a mirage spread before 
her eyes, was the Paris of the now ; fast, gay, and 
worldly. It meant Gaetana and Bressac ; social 
hypocrisy, and again — Bressac. 

“ Raoul, you must hurry to liquidate your brok- 
er’s account.” 

“ I will go to-day, Jeanne.” 

“Please, and I will order the servants to admit 
no visitors in case they call. I will say we are pre- 
paring to go south.” 

Raoul smiled sadly, at the friendly way Jeanne 
still consulted him, even now, after their rupture. 

“ I told you yesterday, Madame, that you are mis- 
tress here. All I can do is to fulfill your desires.” 

Then he left for the Bobrse. 

Jeanne went to see her son, and kissing him 
fondly, she whispered: 

“ It’s through you, my darling, and your influence, 
that your father’s future welfare depends.” 

After having given Joseph strict orders not to ad- 
mit visitors, she went to her room to arrange about 
packing. 

She had never liked this house, where her moth- 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 173 

er’s taste in gilt and tinsel had been so lavishly 
displayed. 

Jeanne had tried to efface the gew-gaws of mod- 
ern upholstery. While emptying wardrobes and 
closets of their contents preparatory to putting 
them in their trunks, which Joseph had just 
brought down from the garret, she turned suddenly 
to him and asked : 

“ Is Mercoeur a large place ?” 

Joseph looked at her, astonished at this unusual 
question. 

“ Has not Monsieur told you?” Jeanne asked. 

“No, Madame ; no, no, what?” 

“ Why, we are going to Mercoeur.” 

“ Going ! Mercoeur ! Livone ! Ah, Madame ! 
Madame ! ” 

This faithful follower was so enraptured at the 
thought of revisiting his beloved village, that he 
gave a fairy-like description of its fields and pas- 
tures, vineyards and woods, and the great bell at 
Livone, which rang the hours, halves, and quarters, 
and the old church, which was so old that it was 
propped up by neighboring houses. And the market 
place, where the fairs were- held, was five times 
larger than the Place Carrousel in Paris. 

“ Ah ! Madame ! It is a wise step you are 


174 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

taking in making this visit. And do you know 
that my parents’ vineyard is right next to the 
chateau ? ” 

He communicated his enthusiasm to Jeanne. 
The young woman fancied herself already in the 
chateau, in the old picture gallery, which was doubt- 
less dilapidated and dusty, but she hoped soon to 
infuse new life into the old home. 

“ Besides, there I shall have my Raoul to myself. 
Ah, Paris ! Paris ! ” 

Then her isolation in Paris frightened her, Par- 
isian as she was ; while at Livone she could always 
rely on the co-operation and counsel of Mademoi- 
selle de Lansac. The memory of the old lady’s first 
words came back vividly to her mind : 

“ Kiss me, little one, and call me aunt.” 

To leave Paris was the only idea at present be- 
fore her. She was nervously waiting for Raoul’s 
return, to know the hour and day that they were 
going to leave Paris. In the midst of these thoughts 
and hopes whereby she was trying to console her- 
self, she heard a voice- at the door of her apart- 
ments, a voice indeed which sent a cold tremor 
through her. 

Joseph was insisting, “ Monsieur is out as I told 
you. Madame will receive no one.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


175 


“ I will come in, and see either monsieur or 
madame ! ” 

" But, sir, I have already told you, you can see 
neither of them.” 

Joseph was roughly pushed aside by the visitant. 

Bressac, the scoundrel, dared then to return. 

This audacity had been caused by a visit from 
Gaetana, who also had lost considerably on the 
Bourse. But he had decided to come, taking all 
chances, and knowing that Raoul would have to go 
out to pay his broker, he had waited in the embra- 
sure of a neighboring doorway until he had seen 
him go out. Bressac thought that he was anxious 
to terminate this affair, and it was cowardly to his 
mind to hesitate. 

In the baseness of his own soul the pride of man- 
hood still remained. Insulted ! insulted ! and 
by a woman, and a “ bourgeoise ” at that, who 
he could bring on her knees if he spoke the 
word. 

Well, certainly, he had shown her that her hus- 
band was formed of common clay ; a man who 
could not resent an insult and kill the perpetrator. 
His mind must be unbalanced, perhaps this finan- 
cial crisis had something to do with it. 

“ I am not sure that he did not act wisely, for if 


176 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

he had struck me instead of killing me, I should 
have told his wife. There is time enough to inform 
him. My plan is superb, there is nothing to show 
that I have been miy.ed up in the scandal, the 
baroness alone must bear the brunt of it. And she 
is the one who still holds Mercoeur’s note. Tant 
pis! I have the upper hand. This transaction 
made public will certainly cause a separation, also 
a lawsuit.” 

“The young woman, after having said mockingly 
to my face, ‘Send him away,’ would let me prove 
her friend.” 

But notwithstanding his habitual confidence in 
himself, Bressac felt a fear, a timidity. 

“ It is because these children of the people, the 
‘ bourgeoise,’ have a great energy ! If she forces 
Mercoeur to fight. If Mercoeur has advanced to 
others that his wife has decided to pay ? Bah, 
bah ! ” ejaculated Bressac, “ Mercoeur is a first- 
rate hand with his sword, and as brave in the field 
as he is indolent in his daily life. Bah, bah ! 
again. It’s not that I am afraid, but to get one’s 
self pinked and hurt for such a trifle indeed ! It 
would be absurd, the act of a fool ! Come on 
then, I say. Shall I carry the hammer in hand ? 
Mercoeur has confessed nothing at all. Have men 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


177 


of his stamp any character ? I am the strongest. 
I must play my cards well.” 

He had seen Raoul starting for the Bourse, and 
almost stupefied in feeling, and murmuring to him- 
self : “Who knows? We may perhaps be wel- 
come. We may. So much the worse for Gae- 
tana.” 

Jeanne, hearing this noise, went bravely to the 
door. 

“Let him in, Joseph, I had forgotten to tell you 
that I expected this gentleman, but to everyone 
else my doors are shut. Come, then, sir,” 

She directed the way to the drawing-room, fol- 
lowed • by Bressac, who had already lost some of 
his cool audacity before the calm, composed man- 
ner of the young wife. 

Jeanne stood upright, and looked coldly on the 
miserable being who had insulted her on the pre- 
vious evening. Her first thoughts were to avoid 
any scandalous, venomous words before her ser- 
vants. Meanwhile she found herself face to face 
with the man who had slandered her husband, with 
the man who knew Raoul’s terrible secret. 

She trembled that this secret should be divulged. 
She ought not, she would not pretend to know it. 

“ What do you wish, sir ? ” 


17 * 


THE PRICE OE A CORONET. 


“ To see you and to speak to you, Madame.” 

“ I thought after the manner you were turned 
away from here, you would not dare return.” 

“You deceive yourself, Madame, for I was not 
driven away. I left with my head held high, and 
your husband ” 

“Be silent, sir. A miserable thing like you has 
not the right even to pronounce the name of Mon- 
sieur de Mercoeur.” 

“ Ah, has he then explained his reasons ? ” 

“ The Count de Mercoeur has no explanations 
to give to the Countess de Mercoeur. He is mas- 
ter of himself, and is free to act as he pleases. No 
one has the right to doubt his courage or hon- 
esty.” 

“ Not even Madame, when Monsieur has not the 
courage to fight ? ” 

“Sir, sir!” 

“ Ah, Madame ! Can a woman like you blind 
herself in this matter? Also, does the man who 
ought to protect you, allow you to be insulted ? 
And you pardon, you forgive him, and defend him ? 
It is very grand, very noble of you, indeed.” 

“ I am astonished that such as you can judge 
what is good and noble.” 

Bressac trembled, Jeanne knew then. No, she 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 179 

would not have defended Raoul in this manner if 
her husband had confessed. 

Then he began again. 

“You are deceived, Madame, your generosity is 
abused. You are made to think that this is only a 
loss of money. Ah, well, I will tell you the mo- 
tives which prevent the Count de Mercoeur from 
demanding of me satisfaction of an injury. Your 
husband ” 

Jeanne felt a thrill of great indignation, and 
haughtily cutting short the words of this wretch 
she said : 

“ I do not want to know the motives which pre- 
vent Monsieur de Mercoeur from asking redress 
from Monsieur Bressac. The Count de Mercoeur 
is his own best judge. But I tell you, yes /can, 
the reasons which prevent Monsieur de Mercoeur 
from giving to Monsieur Bressac the honor of fight- 
ing him in a duel.” 

She then took out of her bosom the marked 
cards, and throwing them to Bressac, said : 
“ Hold sir, these cards, you will want to make your 
game to-night, for your world ; your society.” 

And, standing straight before him, she, in ex- 
tending her hand, meaningly showed him the door. 
Bressac turned livid. 


i8o 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


He remembered that the previous night he had 
lost his cards, and did not remember how. If he 
knew Mercoeur’s secret, now Jeanne knew his. 
True, she had no proofs, nothing showed that these 
cards were his, but she could denounce him to the 
world. He was so afraid, that he ran out 
ashamed. 

Jeanne called Joseph, and desired him to forget 
that Bressac had even called. 

“Never a word to any one, you hear me, never.” 

“ I promise you, Madame.” 

Jeanne was quieted now. She felt in her 
woman’s pride an immense and happy satisfaction 
that she could revenge herself, and out of her love 
for Raoul that she could show Bressac that her 
husband had sufficiently strong motives for treat- 
ing with contempt any injury coming from such as 
he was. Now again the idea of leaving had taken 
her fancy, and when she heard the names of Mer- 
coeur, Livone, and Aunt de Lansac, her ears were 
burning with pleasure. 

Bressac ran rapidly to the Bourse in a great rage, 
hoping to encounter Mercoeur, and to strike him 
publicly. He made inquiries, found that Mer- 
coeur had been there already, settled his losses 
very easily, and had left at once. 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 181 

His broker said to him, “ We shall soon regain 
that.” 

Mercoeur replied, “You will never see me here 
again. I leave for the south at once.” 

Notwithstanding his blind rage, Bressac was too 
much a Parisian not to observe the overthrow, the 
despair of all hopes which had seized upon all of 
them, and also to hear the hard, wicked words 
hurled on those who were supposed to be the 
authors of the catastrophe. 

“ Ah, if we held them ! ” They then tore off a 
leaf of a satirical squib in a journal in which one of 
the minor clerks related his own history. Fortune 
coming to him little by little, became more encour- 
aging, until one day, when it was all swallowed up 
suddenly. 

They all tried to laugh, and finished up saying, 
“That is our history, after all.” 

In the midst of all this misfortune among men of 
this class, Bressac saw the solemn figures of the 
clients of the Faubourg, who from force of habit 
came back to the building, hoping to regain a for- 
tune. 

There were also assembled the equipages of 
many great and high ladies, who could not yet 
believe in this great crash and ruin. 


182 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


There was a crowd in the famous restaurant 
where the brokers between two “ baba’s ” took 
formerly their clients’ orders. 

Bressac met Van Dernicht, who in his great 
trouble had forgotten for two days to dye his 
mustaches. 

“Ah, well, financier, are your pockets touched ?” 

“ Personally, no. Some clients’.” 

“Ah, I see. These financial circulars dropped 
into the water for a little time ? ” 

Van Dernicht smiled, his little eyes twinkled. 

“ Financial circulars ? More of them than ever ! 
Listen. Do you know I have already a superb 
one ? ” 

“ So you think humbug is dead ? ” 

The base, sordid soul of Bressac felt for a 
moment an admiration of one who in the face of 
the announcement of entire ruin, could already 
dream of and plan new chances. 

Bressac walked on in the Boulevard, impatient 
for the hour that Gaetana would return home. 

“ Ah, Gaetana ! His hope now.” 

Had Bressac been really so foolish as to fool 
himself to pretend he loved the Countess Mer- 
coeur, at the risk of breaking off with his friend 
Gaetana? Now more than ever he wanted the 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 183 

baroness’s aid to fish in the troubled waters of the 
world. 

But in his heart there raged a furious conflict of 
feeling against Raoul and Jeanne. Oh ! if he had 
only Raoul’s letter in his hands. He would have 
it at any price, and he hoped to seize it from 
Gaetana. 

“ How now ? Is it you ? ” said Gaetana, as soon 
as she saw Bressac. 

“ Yes, me. Well, what then ?” 

“ At last. You dare come to see me, Bressac?” 

“ If you are going, Gaetana, to make reproaches 
and recriminations, you had better leave them 
alone. We must talk seriously.” Bressac knitted 
his brows. 

“ Seriously, be it so, then. But, do you know, I 
have been obliged to take another partner ? For 
two months I do not know what has come to you ; 
one does not see you, and you say nothing. And 
certainly it is now a favorable moment to come to 
the aid of the gilded youth ! But your days are 
taken up with the Countess Mercoeur. Come 
along my friend, own it, ought I not to be jealous ? ” 

“ You know well, Gaetana.” 

“ Oh, I know all that. To watch the commis- 
sion.” 


1 84 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

“ Well, Gaetana, it is natural of me.” 

“ And you would not be sorry to take any little 
advantage of her husband ? Quite natural, all that 
is most natural in nature ; but you are losing your 
time, my dear boy, and what is of more conse- 
quence, you are losing mine.” 

Bressac was vexed, his rage against the Mer- 
coeurs increased. He felt himself so mean, so 
little before the woman who had mocked at him. 

Then Gaetana continued : “You return to your 
friend Gaetana, who you imagine has neither seen 
nor heard anything. Hold, my boy. You are all 
imbeciles, ultra foolish, you clever men. The 
weakest woman can twist you around as easily as 
if you were children. After having taken simply 
as a scholar a few lessons in the drinking school, 
you come back here. It is well. Then you expect 
a scene. No, it shall be an explanation. You 
thought you would break away from me, from 
Gaetana, child that you are. When two beings of 
our force of character meet in this world, they 
never part, they fall, they rise again together. You 
are mine, I am yours. When one of the two 
wishes to part, he takes a wrong path. And you 
have taken a wrong road, Bressac, to forget me. 
You have not been here for ten days. Yesterday, 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 185 

a day of catastrophe, accidents, when you knew I 
wanted your advice, also your money, you were 
gone after the countess. Now, do not tell a lie, 
for I saw you.” 

“ Well, it was her reception. I thought I should 
meet you.” 

u Do not excuse yourself to me, as if you were a 
timid girl who had lost her first rendezvous. I 
pity you ; be more manly than that, and show your 
cards openly on the table.” 

“ Gaetana, I came here this morning ; I went in 
the afternoon to the Bourse to see you.” 

“ Ah, yes,” said Gaetana ; “a scene of some kind 
at the Mercoeurs, and you want me near. After- 
ward you left the Mercoeurs’ house in a state of 
mad folly. I saw you. I was there ; I had come 
thereabouts for a little information. You see, I 
must do my own police work, as you no longer 
help me. I saw you furious, swearing, like an ill- 
bred man.” 

“ Well, is this all, Gaetana ? ” 

“ No, I wish to ask if it was by your excellent 
advice that the Count de Mercoeur has performed 
that beautiful trick by which he has lost one 
hundred thousand francs ? One hundred thou- 
sand francs, paid to-day, while we have not even 


1 86 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


touched a farthing of our three hundred thou- 
sand francs. My dear friend,” said Gaetana, “ the 
Bourse is nothing more than a vast gambling 
palace, and gambling debts are paid always in 
twenty-four hours.” 

“Have you paid yours, then ? ” 

“ What debts are there ? ” 

“ Ah, your little differences on the Bourse. You 
laugh at others, Gaetana; sometimes you are 
caught.” 

“ Perhaps.” 

“You play I know, and lose.” 

“ It does not signify to you, as you never come 
here now.” 

“What have you lost, then ? ” 

“ Sixty thousand,” said Gaetana. 

Bressac said in reply, “You must be in low 
water ? ” 

“ Oh, no,” Gaetana replied. “ I have found 
credit at a loan office or at a banker’s.” 

“ A banker ? On what recommendation ? ” 

“ On the recommendation of a statesman.” 

“ Then you forsake the Faubourg ? ” 

“ No, only I condescend, Bressac, to lean my 
elbow on a public man’s arm.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 187 

This conversation, in short sentences, annoyed 
Bressac. He did not care to know how Gaetana 
had fared in her losses on the Bourse. 

He had come to talk of the Mercoeurs, to get 
hold of Raoul’s letter, and hasten the payment of 
the three hundred thousand francs. 

“ The devil take your deputy and your banker ! 
You can act well with that, indeed. I have seen at 
the Mercoeurs’ house all preparations for a depart- 
ure. They are going, flying away. If we do not 
demand to-day the payment of our three hundred 
thousand francs ” 

“ The count,” said Gaetana, “ has promised pay- 
ment in September.” 

“Well, if they are .ruined in September?” 

“The Mercoeurs have still a million left.” 

“ To wait a long time is a folly. I want, I will 
have for my part, this sum. Give me Raoul’s 
letter.” 

“ And if this letter, instead of the three hundred 
thousand francs, was worth a million ? ” 

“ Foolery ! ” 

“ It is worth a million to-day.” 

As Gaetana was saying this, the footman brought 

in a card. 


i88 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


“ Bid him enter,” said the adventuress. She 
then showed Bressac the card, who read : 


Saint Blaise, 

Deputy. Livotte. 


XIV. 


“ Sir, an embassy which can give us the opinion 
of Saint Blaise.” 

These words, pronounced in the Chamber of 
Deputies by a witty and clever member of the Re- 
publican party, one day had run. all through the 
ranks and galleries, until they had arrived at the 
tribune of the journalists, where the editor of a 
conservative journal had transformed the words : 
“ Gentlemen, one hundred louis to him who can 
tell us the opinion of St. B ! ” 

Making it follow a sweeping remark : “ Is it not 
shocking that it is allowed to speak thus of a man 
occupying a position . in the public offices and 
stocks ? ” 

Saint Blaise laughed, and turning as his chance 
the well-known principle, he called out in his 
friend’s hearing, “ The public bonds and stocks ; 
why, that is government money.” 

An excellent man, however, was Saint Blaise, — a 
tender heart ; and, incapable of witnessing a 
bull fight, he was a member of the Society for the 
Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. If he had not, 
189 


190 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

perhaps, very strong opinions, it was the fault of 
the republic, which had many politics on hand, but 
no business. Business was the great point of Saint 
Blaise. His title of deputy was for him only a 
sign manual of financiering and commerce. And 
if the department had not had the good taste to 
send him to the Palais Bourbon, Saint Blaise 
would have replied, if he were asked about his 
profession : 

“I am in business.” 

The number of people in Paris who talk of being 
in business is prodigious. In vain it is to try and 
ascertain the nature of the business, if it be finance, 
commerce, an industry, shop, banks. It is always 
affairs, business ; this all etiquette knows, and eti- 
quette is of more value in Paris than mechanics. 
“ Make business.” But this shows, however, that 
people have not much money ; because if possessed 
of money, no one needs business. A pleasant and 
agreeable line this, no expense, no patents. For a 
bureau a cafe is all that is required, where you are 
sure to meet five or six people, always at the same 
table, with a circle of friends. The spring-time is 
most profitable, for people saunter on the Boule- 
vards, and you can bow or speak to the passers-by, 
which serves as an initiation. 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 191 

The people who live by these tricks have a 
special way of shaking hands under the tables ; this 
is their strong point. Not a notice, not a great 
undertaking is announced, but they say, “ I was 
in it.” 

Not a grand failure, but they lost by it. Ah, 
these bankers ! They abused these bankers, like 
a man abuses an insatiable, avaricious mistress. 
For the banker is the kernel of the whole affair. 
And to the banker is often joined a deputy. There 
are many reasons for this. The first is it looks 
well to be counseled with a deputy. People in 
business admire long processions, inaugurations of 
statues, public ceremonials, where one is sure of 
occupying a good place and seat, when a deputy 
honors you with his friendship. 

Then, again, it fills you with pride to say, “ I was 
yesterday in the Hall of the Pas Perdus.” 

“ Oh ! then you go to the Chamber ? ” 

“ Do I go to the Chamber ? Why, I am intimate 
with Saint Blaise.” 

It was inconceivable how well many people 
talked of Saint Blaise ; they put him into every 
dish that was seasoned with “ Sauce, a la financiere.” 

It was not exactly his fault that he had lately 
neglected the affairs of the republic to attend to his 


I9 2 the price of a coronet. 

own. He had just been asked for his advice about 
an industrial enterprise for his friends. Saint Blaise 
was obliging, a question of temperament. He gave 
his advice, and received in return some bonds on 
Barbadoes ? The scheme prospered. He cher- 
ished the friend who directed it, saying : 

“ I have always great luck with these things.” 

One day this friend asked him to do another 
kindness. A little favor. At your service. And 
Saint Blaise saw already the Barbadoes bonds on 
the mantle-piece of his apartments. 

He prepared his advice. But no. It was 
another important affair in agitation. The govern- 
ment was on the point of giving a large order to a 
colliery, which would gain very largely. 

“My dear deputy, there are sixty thousand 
francs to gain.” 

“ Sixty thousand francs ? ” Saint Blaise felt a 
kind of electric shock, and said, “ My friend, it would 
be heart-breaking to see this sum gained by 
others.” 

“ Exactly so, my dear deputy. And the affair 
being before the commissioners, there will be time. 
You are so influential.” 

“ You flatter me, and my position, title.” 

Saint Blaise thought it pleasant to gain sixty 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 193 

thousand in exchange for the Barbadoes loan. 
These manufactories have so many chances. Then 
the manufacturer, guessing the cause of the visita- 
tion of Saint Blaise, glided like a cat and whispered 
in the deputy’s ear, “ In such a great undertaking, I 
would consider you as my partner, and there would 
be a division of profits.” 

And then, pretending atl-souled pride, he said to 
Saint Blaise, “ It would be for the good of the 
country, for you know how superior is my manufac- 
ture; you know my factory.” 

Saint Blaise replied, “ Certainly, certainly. It 
would be for the good of the country, and the good 
of my country is the only thing which influences my 
actions.” 

A few days after the order was given to the 
friend of Saint Blaise. 

Some people called it an arrangement over a bot- 
tle of wine, but others, well up in the march of 
events, said, “ It was the country which held the 
first consideration in his heart, and the welfare of 
his country dominated all his actions.” 

All this affair passed under the civil expenditure 
in which Saint Blaise voted in with all the ministers 
and was very obliging to the “ Liberals,” the party 
of the future. 


194 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

He felt that there would be a change soon, and 
he did not wish to belong to the beaten party, being, 
as he said, a sensible man and the father of a family. 
Oh, this family, indeed ! Madame Saint Blaise and 
her dandy son; also the two young girls. All these 
extravagant ones ; Saint Blaise indeed ought to 
make money upon money, with his appoint- 
ments and offices ; for money was always the one 
thing wanting in his household. 

“This life in Paris cost the eyes out of your 
heads.” 

When Madame Saint Blaise said this, she rolled 
her eyes in her great fat head. 

She did not hesitate to say, cleverly enough, 
“ As if you had not better have kept to your lawyers’ 
chambers in Livone ! Ah, there is where they dis- 
cuss politics ! ” 

Was it this woman, or the children, or the father, 
who swallowed up all the money ? 

But Saint Blaise coolly bowled them over with 
one turn, talked to them of anything but politics, — of 
the ground and its culture, to the peasants, — in the 
sonorous patois of Gascony ; of harvests and crops 
he talked to landed proprietors. He never went 
to mass, but his wife never once missed her 
opportunity of going. And when the family made 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 195 

their pilgrimage to Lourdes, he took care to be 
away out of the town. He always bowed to the 
cure. He often called on the old president, whose 
Bonapartist antecedents were well known to all ; 
but if by chance Saint Blaise met this gay bird of 
the Empire, sent to Lambessa, he gave him a hearty 
shake, saying : 

“ The friend of all electors ! ” 

And well did these electors understand him, and 
suspected him, too. A deputy, what is he good 
for, but to be useful and do good service to all ! 
Those he had recommended from Livone in his 
life, schools, colleges, banks, exchanges in the 
departments and government. How many let- 
ters written to mention works in hand. There 
never was a department so well known as that 
of Livone, with the white envelope of the Palais 
Bourbon, and round stamp, “ Chamber of Depu- 
ties.” 

Then, again, during election time, you should see 
Saint Blaise cajoling the small voters ; sending a 
wagon full of groceries ; with a woman, devoted to 
him, buying the votes for a pound of sugar or even 
two pounds of candles. 

Saint Blaise never had a sou. He often used 
the remark made by those who did not wish to re- 


I9 6 THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 

count their past history, “What can you do, you 
know ! One wants money ! ” 

He required fabulous sums of money ; debts he 
had on all sides, — from the modistes, dressmakers, 
tailors, and payments in arrears. When a grand 
order did come, it was taken up for past debts, so 
that the very next day he was still in trouble and 
wanted more money. 

He had adroitly managed his party on the 16th 
of May, and notwithstanding that he was assured 
of his re-election to Livone, thanks to some great 
tobacco warehouses, and three appointments of 
preceptors, he only thought of politics as a future, 
and laughed at it. 

But he held firmly to his title of deputy. Some 
people said he held also very firmly (the envious 
ones did) to his payments. 

It was his chance, — the situation, which allowed 
him to take a share in the councils of administration. 
He said he had a special taste for these little polit- 
ical turns and twists in the administration. Saint 
Blaise thought he could effect a special point be- 
tween the two factions. He forgot, however, that 
he had licensed and made the railroad of the outer 
circle of Paris ; that he was a business man in his 
own district. He was often attacked, calumniated, 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 197 

by energetic men ; candidates, able, clever, tal- 
ented. 

When the elections were over, and the game well 
played and finished, Saint Blaise quickly returned 
to Paris, irritated at the thought that business had 
been troubled and a little mixed up in his absence. 
He went, really happy to find himself again in the 
Hall of the Pas-Perdus. In the front and fore- 
most act was the idea of his recommendations, his 
commissions, and his legalizations of lotteries. 

“ And all that I do in this matter, why, it is all 
for the good of the country, sirs.” 

The welfare of the country deserved a good, 
broad back. But again, why does not the repub- 
lic pay more largely its statesmen ? 

Saint Blaise would never have wanted money in 
the sense that Gaetana, Bressac, and other Bohe- 
mians of the literary, worldly, political set did, who 
had begun life by launching out into expense and 
luxury, and then had not the moral courage to stop 
and pull up when ruined. 

While the deputy was courteously saluting Gae- 
tana as a beautiful woman, Bressac examined Saint 
Blaise shrewdly during the mutual exchange of 
compliments and civilities. He was a short, stout 
man, rosy, with grizzled hair ; badly shaved ; a good- 


198 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

natured head and face, lighted up with two bright, 
intelligent eyes. 

He observed the manner in which Gaetana had 
been received by her banker. “A charming man, 
is he not, Madame la Baronesse ? ” 

“ Charming, really. He has shown such kind- 
ness. All my troubles are over, and I have a real 
and great gratitude.” 

“ I am only too happy, Madame la Baronne.” 

This was a weakness of Saint Blaise, his love of 
titles. In the country he had rubbed up against 
all sets of parties, Bonapartists, Radicals, Orlean- 
ists ; but if he met real nobility, his politeness was 
overpowering. 

Thus it gave him pleasure to repeat these words, 
“ Madame la Baronne.” Van Dernicht had intro- 
duced him to Gaetana for a lottery affair, which 
had failed, and he had continued his visits to her 
from time to time. 

It was one footstep in the Faubourg St. Ger- 
main. He was with her the day of the grand 
crash ; he had come to ask her help in a gigantic 
affair in which he could make a fortune in a month. 
Gaetana, overwhelmed by her losses, said, “ Let us 
talk of this by and by, to-day it is impossible. 
You must find me a backer, a support.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 199 

This backer Saint Blaise soon found. A letter of 
four lines to his banker, “ Make a full statement to 
the Baroness Rinazzi, she is indispensable to us 
for the issuing of the circulars of Montezuma 
mines.” 

And now that he had rendered Gaetana great 
help, he had come to see her as a friend. 

Gaetana, like adventuresses in general, thought 
as the danger was for the time averted, hoped it 
might be forever. She gave herself to new fancies 
and visions for the future. 

Had not Saint Blaise yesterday only showed her 
a marvelous plan. 

“ I was too troubled, Monsieur le Depute, to pay 
strict attention to the plan you told me, a surpris- 
ing revelation. Do you know M. Bressac ? He is 
a grand friend of mine, who counsels me in my 
little affairs and negotiations ; besides, he is, ,1 
think, one of your country-people ? ” 

“ Ah, a compatriot. Ah, indeed ! ” Saint Blaise 
was going to tell Bressac he knew him as a child, 
but the adventurer, who did not like useless false- 
hoods, cut him short by saying : 

“ No, sir, I have never had the honor of meeting 
you before.” 


200 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


There was something so decided and abrupt in 
his tone that Saint Blaise was astonished. 

“ You, perhaps, are not of my opinion.” 

“ On the contrary, sir, like you, I have not 
one.” 

Bressac, notwithstanding his anger, and forced 
by his bullying nature wished to direct the conver- 
sation in the affairs, which would lead to a result. 
Thus it was why he wished to browbeat Saint 
Blaise, who replied : 

“These questions in finance and industries do 
not interest you, sir ? ” 

“ But they do, my dear deputy, and clearly ex- 
plained by you.” 

Then Bressac became amiable ; having shown 
his superiority — that was all he wanted. 

Saint Blaise said, “ Just now there is on hand a 
very grand enterprise which interests me much for 
the good of my country, and which will yield great 
profit. It is about mines of nickel. You know 
nickel is of great use and in demand for articles of 
toilet, fancy goods, and artistic objects.” 

Then he began a little lecture, as if he were ex- 
pounding it all to a host of bond-holders and 
speculators, of the importance of nickel, for gas 
lamps in houses, offices, watches, chains, clocks, — 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


201 


nickel would revolutionize the science of clocks 
and chronometers, do away with that common old 
metal “ gold,” and then with some verses to the 
point. Bressac feared Saint Blaise was going to 
pronounce a funeral oration on Louis d’or. And 
as the deputy continued his pompous speech in the 
high flown, flaming language in which he addressed 
the representatives of the people, Bressac asked 
himself the question, “ Does this good man believe 
all he is saying ? ” 

After this wordy tirade, Saint Blaise got to the 
kernel of his nut, saying : “ Now we have conceded 
the vast importance of nickel, the next question 
is, where was nickel found ? Formerly in the 
Caucasus, but in small quantity, and it did not 
please the public taste, and so they sought out new 
mines. Some years ago a merchant found in Cale- 
donia firearms made of a brilliant white metal — this 
metal was nickel.” 

Bressac said, “ Is this a fact ? ” 

Saint Blaise then spoke of Spain. The mines of 
New Caledonia were considerable, the working 
easy, but the transport so costly that the price was 
absurdly outrageous. 

“ Give up that island, speak of the mines. 
The mines and politics signify so little, dear 


202 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


deputy ; speak only of nickel, as that is the 
business.” 

“ Well, then, in Spain, south of Malaga, they 
have found mines of cobalt, and of nickel. Now 
do you see your advantage ? ” 

“ Yes, of course, no freight and carriage du- 
ties.” 

“ But to you and me this is of no account, for you 
have not of course the idea of turning into a 
miner. Neither have I.” 

“ Evidently there is a company to establish, pros- 
pectus to send out, and on this prospectus a great 
deal to gain.” 

Saint Blaise looked in astonishment at Bressac ; 
Gaetana felt a pride and pleasure in the clear in- 
telligence of her lover. She pressed his hand, say- 
ing, “ That is just it, you have found out.” 

Bressac continued coldly, “ You can of course 
settle this business with the people of the south. 
Spain is near the south. You could not dream of 
starting this to the Parisian public, for they have 
not yet recovered from their late shock.” 

Saint Blaise replied : “ Ah ! but the affair is first- 
rate, the mineral is abundant and rich.” 

Bressac made an impatient movement. 

“ What does that matter to us ? What does con- 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 203 

cern us, is the starting of the affair. To whom be- 
long these nickel mines ? ” 

“ To a Spanish society composed of Frenchmen.” 
“ Has a concession been obtained, deputy? ” 

“ Absolute, for twenty years.” 

“ Then have you a banker ? ” 

“ A banker in Monsieur Rechna) and a first class 
counselor in Van Dernicht.” 

“ Ah ! Van Dernicht.” Bressac then thought 
of the superb affair Van Dernicht had told him 
about in the afternoon. 

Saint Blaise changed his attitude ; he felt like a 
child before Bressac. Always a superior dash in 
a finished rascal to a mediocre one. Bressac 
knew all about these mines, and that they were 
worth nothing at all. And then he thought if now 
he should lay before the public a resume of the ruin 
and distress which had frightened the Bourse. 
He began to see through Gaetana’s object. 

Bressac asked, “ Have you good advisers in 
your administration ? ” Said he, after a silence, 
“ No, not one, we want some.” 

“ Yes, you do ; your Rechna is next door to a 
thief, Van Dernicht no better. And to present 
this matter to the public, you must have good, 
honorable, titled names. You must dazzle the 


204 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


world before circulating a prospectus, especially 
the day after a crash.” 

“ I want,” said Saint Blaise, “ Madame la Ba- 
ronne to get me some names.” 

Saint Blaise turned to Gaetana, who made a 
gesture indicating her lover. “ Monsieur Bressac 
knows as well as I do. You must have some 
decorated and distinguished nobility. This costs 
very dear. My banker is disposed to be generous 
Then you could start the affair in your Depart- 
ment.” 

“ Yes,” Saint Blaise said, “ I have thought of the 
Marsies, and the Due de Roquemont.” 

“ All these do not count for much ; they haven’t 
a farthing ; every one knows they are all ruined,” 
said Bressac, disdainfully. 

“ Then I had thought,” said Saint Blaise, 
“though perhaps it would be difficult, of the Count 
de Mercoeur.” 

Bressac replied, “ Raoul de Mercoeur’s name 
would be invaluable, as he has never been mixed 
up with financial undertakings ; his name is fresh 
and good. Through his wife he is more than a 
millionaire. He takes a first rank among the Gas- 
con nobility.” 

“ Do you know him, Monsieur Bressac ? ” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 205 

“ Intimately, one of my best friends.” 

“ Will you then undertake to speak to him ? ” 

“ I will do so, but I forewarn you that the Count 
de Mercoeur will want a large slice. How much 
does your banker hope to gain on the first start- 
ing of the prospectus ? ” 

“ That I cannot say.” 

“ Now, my dear deputy, none of those triflings. 
At how much do you put the capital ? ” 

“ At fifteen millions, I think.” 

“ Well, then, three millions can easily be gained 
by a single stroke— a pull of the wire ; if your 
banker will undertake to give Madame Rinazzi and 
I, in case of success, one million, and we bring 
you the name of the Count de Mercoeur in your 
list of patrons and administrators. Do you thor- 
oughly understand ? ” 

• Saint Blaise replied, “ I can promise nothing 
until I have seen Rechna.” 

“ I will accompany you, if you please, to see 
Monsieur Rechna. Think well over it; the name of 
Mercoeur is sufficient to raise high your schemes, 
for with his name you could have also the Marsies, 
the Due de Roquement, General Moustil, and the 
Messieurs de Lansac and de Combat. 

Saint Blaise then retired. 


20 6 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


Gaetana mockingly turned to her lover, saying, 
“ Well, my dear friend, was I right or wrong, when 
I said your friend de Mercoeur was worth a 
million ? ” 

Bressac remained some time silent ; then, laugh- 
ing heartily, said one word to his mistress, “ Go 
along, you canaille." 


XV. 


“ Here, Jeanne ! ” said Raoul, as the train 
slowed up at Livone, and opening the window cur- 
tain, from which could be seen a great square 
dwelling, with white walls, at sight of which 
Raoul’s eyes were obscured by tears. 

Jeanne, anxious to see all she could see, found 
that she could only discern the slated cupola of the 
Palace of Justice. The barrier gateway, the guard 
with red cloak, as sentinel, passed rapidly, and, 
while the engine was whistling and puffing, the 
porter called out : 

“ Livone ! Livone ! Five minutes to wait ! ” 

As they stepped on the platform, Jeanne heard 
the voice of Mademoiselle de Lansac, saying : 

“ Give me the little one.” 

And looking round the family circle, she noticed 
the sharp profile of the Vidame of Lontras, and 
the cousins, Combat and de Lansac, all dressed up 
as if for a f£te, well gloved, with white neckties, 
and swallow-tailed coats. 

Their hands were frankly offered to her and 


207 


208 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


Raoul. Jeanne felt full of happy joy; she had 
now found a family, also friends. She seemed 
quite at home when she bowed to the station 
master, the servants, the coach cab drivers, who 
uncovered before her. All these people spoke in 
a gay tone, saying pleasantly : 

“ Eh, now ! Good-morning, Monsieur de Mer- 
coeur.” 

“ Some even said, “ Good-morning, Monsieur 
Raoul ! ” 

Along dusty roads, bordered by trees, they 
drove ; and in winding paths, before arriving in 
the town, the streets of which paved with flinty 
stones, and where was situated the house of 
Mademoiselle de Lansac. And hearing the women 
chattering at their doors, Jeanne felt a repose, 
free from the emotions of Paris. She saw before 
her at the end of the street, under the awnings, a 
dozen of Livonais men who were leisurely walking 
and smoking their cigars. 

“ You must take something here,” said Made- 
moiselle de Lansac. “ You must go later on to 
the chateau ; at present it is too warm.” 

Jeanne scarcely had time to feel the stifling 
Gascon heat, when she was installed in the close, 
stuffy dining-room. “ A little bouillon for baby,” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 209 

said Aunt de Lansac. “ Raoul, take care of your 
wife.” The dowager was absorbed by the child. 
She was unfastening his little cloak. “ This poor 
dear little treasure. Is he not lovely ? You are 
not going to cry ? ” she rattled on. 

The cousins and the Vidame had gone away, 
saying : 

“ See you to-morrow ! ” 

“ Yes, Vidame, to-morrow ; for to-night, no game 
of piquet.” 

“ Certainly not, neither piquet nor visite ; no 
thought to disturb the home life to-night.” 

“ All to-night for the little grandnephew. Ah ! 
this love of a child ! Why, he sleeps ; look ! And 
he is beautiful, notwithstanding Paris.” 

It was no fault of hers, but Mademoiselle de 
Lansac held a fixed idea that everything coming 
from Paris was bad and wicked ! 

Then she smiled shrewdly, thinking of the em- 
barrassed smile given her by her Cousin de Lansac, 
who had, she imagined, for a long time sought her 
inheritance. “ But no ! The heir was here. 
This wee bit of a man ! ” 

Then turning quickly to Raoul, she said, “Ah, 
now, how could you have such a beautiful little 
mortal ! ” 


210 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


Jeanne gave way to a feeling of charming ease. 
Surprised by. the southern custom of keeping the 
shutters closed, she looked in twilight at the paltry 
old furniture, the piano serving for a flower-pot 
stand, the bowls of copper and brass, and the 
clock under a glass globe, the table in the center of 
the room, with the eternal album ; all very clean, 
bright, and shining. And in the corridor leading 
into the drawing-room, in walking past the ward- 
robes, between two rows of green plants, Jeanne 
caught the odor of soapsuds, saw closets full of 
household linen, and sheets and table napkins by 
the dozen. 

Toward five o’clock a great noise was heard in 
the street of two horses prancing and chafing. 
Jeanne went to the window, and saw the women of 
the adjacent houses with their children in their 
arms drawn near, while the coachman harnessed 
the horses. They talked and laughed merrily. 
The coachman sometimes launched forth an oath, 
sometimes gave a flick of his whip to the urchins 
rolling in the road near the horses’ feet. 

Jeanne looked about for Joseph, then she re- 
membered that the home of his parents was quite 
out of the town. The good fellow had gone to see 
and embrace them. It was a day of happiness for 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


211 


all. Jeanne was gay, and one would have thought 
that the same happy feeling would have extended to 
Raoul. The sun had set behind a little hill, when 
they arrived at Mercoeur. Raoul remained silent. 

The old residence of the Counts of Mercoeur had 
lost something of the lordly air that the old 
chateaux of Louraine and Normandy had still re- 
tained. In former times it was an old fortress, 
commanding views of the roads and the river, with 
a square tower pierced full of loop-holes. This 
tower had been half destroyed, and at present 
served for a pigeon house — the finest in the country. 
The chapel in which the Seigneur of Montluc said 
his prayers and counted his beads before besieging 
around Lectoure, was changed into a granary ; and 
the walls of gray stone were now as white as chalk. 
In the Hall of the Guards, Raoul’s father had put 
the hay and straw ; and to enable the vineyard and 
harvest wagons to come in well and easily, they 
had knocked down the old walls which supported 
two wings, so that from the avenue the principal 
and habitable part of the house seemed the only 
remains of the old chateau. 

Its aspect was still grand and fine. It had a 
high fapade nearly all in one piece ; each story 
was ornamented with eight crossed oriels, of which 


212 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


the carvings of the columns were decorated with 
Renaissance and Gothic sculpture. The door was 
large, and underneath the argive arch, a great 
escutcheon, which time had much destroyed, bore 
the following motto engraved on its banner : 

“Always right and true.” 

Raoul descended from the carriage ; and after 
assisting his aunt to alight, offered his hand to his 
wife. 

“Countess of Mercoeur,” said he, “you are at 
your home.” 

By this little sentence, sadly uttered, Raonl 
wished to recall to Jeanne that he considered him- 
self culpable toward her ; and of this place, so full 
of glorious souvenirs of his ancestry, she, Jeanne, 
was now mistress. 

They then entered the chateau. Jeanne re- 
mained a long time in the immense salon, which 
occupied the greater part of the first floor with its 
two fireplaces, the classically arranged portraits of 
the family, and the hangings of a landscape scene, 
which separated the dining-room. 

Jeanne went toward two modern portraits : 

“ Ah ! are these your parents, Raoul ? ” 

Aunt de Lansac, for the first time, felt that there 
was a little tragedy in this young establishment. 


THE PRICE OF A' CORONET. 213 

The silence since they arrived at thS chateau, the 
dramatic manner in which Jeanne said, “ Your pa- 
rents.” Then with her kind hearted instinct she 
decided on taking Jeanne’s side. 

The windows of the Court of Honor lighted up 
a large gallery, which extended from the drawing- 
room to the dining-room, and these two rooms 
looked out on the river. 

“ Come and see here, little one,” and Mademoi- 
selle de Lansac led Jeanne to the drawing-room 
windows, and showed her the water rushing over a 
bed of rock, about twenty feet above her. From 
this side the chateau had a wild look, almost feu- 
dal. On the opposite bank a peasant keeping the 
cows at pasture opened his eyes in astonishment, 
and uttered *a cry of surprise to see faces in the 
windows of the drawing-room. 

“ In this part,” said Mademoiselle de Lansac, 
“the Chateau of Mercoeur is impregnable.” 

Notwithstanding all the old maiden lady’s efforts 
to give a lively, gay air to the chateau, it retained 
a look of sadness, and a smell of moldiness and 
damp earth. 

“ Now, come and see the rooms.” 

They ascended to the first story by a stone stair- 
case. Raoul leaned on the iron balustrade. 


214 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


“My mothers room,” said he; “it shall be 
yours.” 

Jeanne smiled quietly and simply said, “ Thank 
you, Raoul.” 

Mademoiselle de Lensac tried to be a little gay 
and lively. 

“ And yours was also there, you wild boy. Were 
you not spoiled there ? And now we will spoil your 
boy ! ” 

Aunt de Lansac had arranged the cradle and 
bed for the nurse in the room where Raoul’s valet 
used to sleep. While the two women were de- 
scending the stairs, Raoul called Joseph, who was 
lounging under the last rays of the sun, telling all 
the people round him of the wonders of the capital. 

“ Come along, help me.” 

Taking the cradle, he carried it into Jeanne’s 
room by the bed. “You know the baby always 
sleeps beside madame.” They then carried in the 
nurse’s bed. 

“ And your bed, sir ? ” 

“ You will find that in my room upstairs, you will 
arrange it, and bring it to my room here, on this 
floor.” 

Mademoiselle de Lansac cried out, “ What are 
you doing up there ?” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 215 

“ I am coming down,” said Raoul. 

Jeanne was seated in the dining-room before the 
steaming soup tureen, waiting for her husband be- 
fore commencing to serve. Then when all were 
there, Raoul sitting facing his wife, his aunt on his 
right hand, with the baby between them, the dowa- 
ger said : 

“ My children, Jeanne begged of me to re- 
purchase Mercoeur. For two years now Mercoeur 
has belonged to me, and as you succeed to all I 
possess, I give you Mercoeur from to-day. It is 
my wedding gift to you, only you must permit me 
to settle it on your son.” 

Jeanne rose, and embraced the aunt. Raoul 
now explained to himself how and why it was 
nothing had been changed in the chateau ; the 
furniture in the same place, and the same hangings 
on his mother’s bed. 

“ Ah ! my dear good aunt, you have done all 
this, and I never even supposed it ! ” 

“ Oh ! indeed,” said the aunt, “do you suppose 
that I should allow Mercoeur to leave the family 
and be sold ? ” 

“ And the lawyer Lousseteau never said a word 
to me,” replied Raoul. 

“ I had strictly forbidden him. Come now, no 


216 the price of a coronet. 

more embraces, or kisses. Let us come to table, 
sit down.” 

Raoul felt himself growing smaller and un- 
worthy before these two women. Decidedly the 
women of his family were better, braver than the 
men. 

After dinner they conducted Mademoiselle de 
Lansac to the end of. the avenue, and on entering 
the house, Jeanne said to Raoul : 

“ I am so glad that you were willing to come 
here, we shall be so happy.” 

“ Happy ! ” Ah ! was this ironical ? “ Happy ! ” 
living a separate life in this home, where happiness 
had always existed ! “ Happy ? ” lying to the 

world, to the family ! “ Happy ! ” despised by 

his family, his wife ; humiliated, wicked ! No, no ! 
For him all happiness was over ! Only one hope 
remained, to find in the affection of Mademoiselle 
de Lansac the means of washing clean his name. 
And then ! After that ? The answer most simple 
seemed to his mind to be that one which he had 
thought of in Paris — to kill himself. To kill him- 
self — it was foolish, cowardly ! For a man to kill 
himself who had lived a tranquil, middle-class life — 
to kill himself was an act of courage ; for a high 
liver, a gentleman in high society, who was habitu- 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


217 


ated to face death, was the answer, the end, to 
which one only had recourse when afraid to live. 

“ Besides, I have sworn I will never kill myself.” 
He said this when alone, sitting on his bed. 
“ And,” he added, “ Have I the right to kill my- 
self ? Should I be an honest man to do so ? Now 
supposing my aunt consents, and she will consent, 
and can procure for me these three hundred 
thousand francs, even then shall I be justified in 
putting a bullet through my head ? No no ! My 
aunt has already given Mercoeur to my child. 
She will leave him all her fortune. It will there- 
fore be my own child whose good fortune I shall 
frustrate. Have I then the right to do this ? ” 

The nobleman of fashion, the fast liver, was dead 
in him. His.conscience had little by little modeled 
itself on that of Jeanne. Did she not say to him 
the parents ought to forget and obliterate them- 
selves before their children. The Viscount of 
Mercoeur has the only right to command us. And 
Raoul had no right, no — nothing at all. No 
fortune, no chateau ! it belonged to his child. 

In taking these three hundred thousand francs, 
he was robbing his son. A mistake, a fault, that 
would pass off. But a debt ! No, that had to 
be paid. Paid ? He ! With what ? 


218 the price of a coronet. 

Jeanne thought this sojourn at Mercoeur was 
necessary to regenerate her husband. If she only 
had known the proud sentiments of truth and 
loyalty which were surging up in Raoul now, from 
that first night in heart and soul, she would have 
understood that the work of regeneration was 
already finished in him ; all through her love. 

Their first days of life at the chateau were 
almost isolated ones. Mademoiselle de Lansac 
had spoken of making several visits to the neigh- 
boring nobility of the town and suburbs. 

Jeanne replied, “ We are so happy here with you, 
my aunt. Besides, we are scarcely settled here 
yet.” 

“ That is true, my little one. Also, I do not 
wish you to come again yet to see me. It is I who 
will come to you daily. And it is not for you, 
neither is it for your husband ; but it is for baby.” 

And every day she carried baby away, taking 
him from his nurse and his mother, kissing him, 
and talking to him. 

One night when it was very dark, Raoul said to 
his aunt : 

“ Jeanne seems tired to-night, if you wish I will 
accompany you alone.” 

“ Certainly, yes ; little one, rest quiet.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 


219 


“But I feel quite strong enough to accompany 
you.” 

“ No, no, my dear ; it is better for us to go 
alone.” 

Jeanne, without exactly reasoning on this 
matter, thought it would be better to let her hus- 
band and his aunt be alone together ; so, sad and 
pensive, she returned to the chateau as they walked 
onward. 

“ Ah, then,” said Mademoiselle de Lansac, when 
alone with Raoul, “ you are going to tell me all 
that has passed between you and your wife, — I 
have observed.” 

“ No, no, not here. When we are at' your house 
together.” 

“ It must be something important, then.” 

They pushed on quickly, anxiety caused the old 
lady’s head to throb. 

“ See, now, what have you done to the little 
one ? ” 

Two or three times she put this question to 
Raoul, without getting any reply. 

“ By and by,” said he, “ at your house.” 

And this persistence showed Raoul how far he 
was wrong, as his aunt seemed to imagine before- 
hand on which side was the wrong-doing. 


220 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


Mademoiselle said to her servant, “ Mariette, if 
the Vidame comes, you will say that I have not 
yet returned from the chateau.” 

“ In the mean time, Raoul, speak, now.” 

The dowager, seated in her easy chair, waited 
anxiously. And at the sight of her nephew, sad 
and gloomy, she was seized with a feverish trem- 
bling. She remembered he was the son of her 
sister, and drawing him toward her, said : 

“ My little boy, tell me, what is it ? ” 

She put so much tenderness into the words that 
Raoul put his head on her knees, and sobbed out : 

“ What would you have,” said he. “ It is too 
much, too harcT for me to bear. I weep now ; if 
my mother had been here, I should have wept 
also.” 

Then, after a silence, Mademoiselle said : 

“ What is the secret between you ? ” 

“ Something terrible, a horrible fault.” 

“ Committed by you ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ I thought so. I fancied from the first night 
here. Tell me all about it.” 

“ When you came to Paris, you asked me how it 
was possible any one could have given me for a 
wife, I, a ruined nobleman, a young, beautiful and 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


221 


rich girl. Well, this marriage was an arranged 
affair. You say how, what ? Well, then, it was a 
buying and selling, a market, if you like to say so.” 

“ Ah, unhappy one ; ” said Mademoiselle de 
Lansac, covering her face with her hands. The 
offended accent of the old lady frightened Raoul. 

“Yes, I know it well, my aunt. It was infa- 
mous ; a thing that no really good woman could 
pardon ; but you — you will pardon your own 
sister’s son.” 

“And Jeanne — Jeanne — my niece; did she 
know of all this ? ” 

“ Jeanne, my aunt, through all this behaved 
admirably ; / was the miserable one — Jeanne’s 
mother, a silly woman, a tradesman’s wife, was 
dying to see her daughter a countess, — permitted 
her daughter to be married by adventurers, — a 
sort of underhand agency, which under false, 
worldly pretense, takes advantage of our hybrid, 
mundane society, and exercises its hideous call- 
ing.” 

Mademoiselle interrupted her nephew, and said 
in a sarcastic tone : 

“ I understand now, what that Bressac and the 
baroness were doing in your midst ; but tell me.” 

“ My aunt,” said Raoul, “ I have already suffered 


222 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


so much, that I beg of you not to reproach me. 
Overwhelmed, lost, covered with debts, unfriendly 
with you, I was led on day by day by Bressac, 
and the woman Gaetana de San Rinazzi ; and 
then, half mad and half foolish, I was driven into 
being a dishonest man. I wrote — I signed a letter, 
of which the words are always present in my re- 
membrance : 

“ i I i the undersigned, Raoul Pontais , Count de Mer - 
coeur , promise o?i my honor to give to the Baroness 
San Rinazzi the sum of three hundred thousand 
francs , out of the dowry of Mademoiselle Jeanne 
Berthout , if, through her aid, this young girl becomes 
my wife .’ 

“ All this took place in June. A month after- 
ward, Jeanne became Countess de Mercoeur. 
You know her.” 

“ Unfortunate boy ! Never reveal this secret to 
your wife — she loves you so much.” 

“ She is ignorant of it all, my aunt ; but that is 
nothing.” 

“ Then you have not paid, Raoul ? ” 

“ No, aunt.” 

“ Well then, I will pay ; I will.” 

“ Ah, my aunt, thanks, thanks.” 

“ Thanks ? No, it is not for you I do this, 


THE PRICE OF A CORO MET. 22$ 

Raoul ; it is for the family name. It is also for 
her — poor little girl. And you, Raoul Pontais, 
Count de Mercoeur, have acted like this ? ” 

Raoul could not speak. 

“ But,” said his aunt, “as Jeanne does not know 
of all this matter, what causes the coldness between 
you ? ” 

“ One day Bressac came to see me. He asked 
for the payment of my debt. I could not pay him 
the three hundred thousand francs. That is not 
easily found. I searched, I struggled, I would 
have done whatever I could to pay this debt, to pay 
it alone ! Ha ! I loved, I love my wife, I admire 
her ; she is as good and worthy as you are, as my 
mother was ; beside her I have again become what 
I had ceased to be, an honest man. You heard 
of the great crash, of the terrible ruin which over- 
whelmed all the nobility. Carried away, advised by 
the most important men of our party, I speculated 
on the Bourse, and again lost a hundred thousand 
francs. And that night, when broken-hearted, 
overcome by this new misery I returned home, I 
found Bressac visiting Jeanne, whom he dared to 

insult ; Jeanne ” 

* l And you did not kill him ? ” 

“I was going to strike him, turn him out, kill 


224 THE PRICE OE A CORONET. 

him, perhaps. He took me by the arm, and said, 
‘ If you strike, I will speak and repeat all to your 
wife.’ And I shrank from the wretched creature. 
I was a coward.” 

“A coward! you?” The dowager looked 
long and fixedly at Raoul ; then she, in measuring 
out her words, said : 

“ You have done well. You are a Mercoeur ; 
you could not be a coward ! There is sometimes 
more courage in withdrawing than in fighting. 
And Jeanne ? ” 

“We had a terrible explanation. I was ready to 
kill myself. She stopped me. I should perhaps 
have confessed all to her, but I saw that this reve- 
lation of my crime — it was a crime — would only add 
to her tortures. She had a right over me ; she 
wished me to live, she said, to bring up our child. 
I have lived. All is finished between us. She is 
the mother, and I the father of the child. More- 
over, it is the only tie between us. And I have 
come to tell you this. You have a fortune. In the 
the name of my child, in the name of theVicomte 
de Mercoeur, save our name, our honor.” 

“ And after that, what will you do ? ” 

“ I shall go away. Calm yofirself ; I shall have 
the courage not to kill myself. The name of my 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 225 

creditor will be changed. I shall travel far away, 
and regain the fortune which I have taken from my 
child/’ 

Without doubt Raoul had committed a great 
fault, but the chivalrous courage with which he 
received the consequences showed something so 
honest, and loyal, too, that Mademoiselle de Lansac 
did not dream of reproaching him. 

“You then require three hundred thousand 
francs ?” said she quietly. 

“ Yes, I do, my aunt.” 

“ I have not got all that sum. My fortune was 
about that sum, but I have given you Mercoeur, 
which, with the expenses, and the late repairs, have 
cost me one hundred thousand. But do not fear. 
I will find that money. Find the money you want. 
Your friend of Saint Marie, the banker, Lestious, 
will lend the money to us. I will go and ask him.” 

“ When?” 

“ From to-morrow ; and to-morrow M. Lousse- 
teau will receive the orders to sell all I possess, even 
my house. A11 old lady like me does not cost much 
to keep. I shall tell Jeanne I have lost my fortune. 
I shall tell a lie for the first time in my life. And I 
shall ask her to receive me. We shall live, we two, 
all three, in awaiting you. And when you return, 


226 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 


when you have expiated your fault by your es- 
trangement from us, and your work, you will again 
have a family, wherein you will be loved, and also 
esteemed.” 

Raoul took his way homeward, feeling like an- 
other man, altogether changed, having had the con- 
scientiousness to repair his fault. The next day, 
when the young banker Lestious entered his office, 
his managing man told him, with a certain emotion 
in his voice : 

“ Mademoiselle de Lansac is there.” 

“ Mademoiselle de Lansac ? ” 

This Lestious was of low birth, and, notwith- 
standing his Legitimist opinions, the members of 
the old nobility would never consider him of their 
party. Never had Mademoiselle de Lansac been 
to see him. 

“ I am honored, Mademoiselle.” He made her 
sit down. The pale face, the haggard eyes of the 
old lady struck him. 

He felt drawn toward her, feeling she had a 
great sorrow and trouble. And his heart, noble 
and pure, throbbed a little. 

Mademoiselle de Lansac said, trembling a little : 

“ It is a service I am going to ask you to render 
me in my nephew’s name.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONE 77 227 

“ Raoul ? ” 

“ Your comrade.” 

“ A service — money ? ” 

“ Yes, he wants three hundred thousand francs, 
directly. It is a secret to be kept from his wife. 
I have two-thirds of that sum, of which one part is 
with you. I entreat of you to lend us the sum 
wanting. You will have a legal acknowledgment : 
I know this affair is out of your usual line.” 

Lestious replied nobly : 

“ Mademoiselle, you have yourself told me that 
it was not business, but a service to render. My 
friend Raoul de Mercoeur has the right to ask me 
to render him a service. If I can do so, I am 
quite disposed to render him aid.” 


XVI. 


v 


From time immemorial, it was always nine 
o’clock that the Livonais went on Sunday to the 
mass to pray to God. 

The nine o’clock mass was one of those little 
events which formed part of the existence of the 
Livonais — like the market on Monday, and every 
year the pilgrimage to Lourdes, or the tolling of 
bells during a storm. There were several other 
masses — at six o’clock, and at eleven o’clock. This 
last was even sung ; but the real mass, where came 
the really great society, perhaps the only one in 
which they thought the Lord descended on earth, 
was the mass at nine o’clock. 

From half-past eight o’clock, the church warden 
pushed aside all the people who obstructed his 
path, and ran to the bell to ring the first sound. 
And at once, in all the houses of the town, one 
heard the voices of masters and servants calling 
out in unison, “ There the first bell. The first, 
great goodness, and no one ready yet ! ” 

And then, sometimes the second bell rang out, 
228 


\ 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 229 

and no one ready. So much the worse for those 
husbands whose shirts were rumpled ! So much 
the worse for the torn garments, and buttons want- 
ing. Pity for those children, who, dressed long 
beforehand, rolled in the dust and roads ! Scold- 
ing, and blame, and cuffs rained on them, with this 
terrible sentence, “The second bell is rung.” 

Then, when once the second has rung out, the 
neighbors question each other from window to 
window if it is an avowed fact. “ Nothing more 
to be done.” “ All is over.” 

In effect and reality*-, it was considered bad taste 
to arrive at the parish church when the third bell 
was ringing out. 

The Livonais never have said “ the third ” ; they 
say, “ The last one has rung out ! ” with an em- 
phatic accent, the last. The last, which recalls the 
Day of Judgment. At this remark they felt 
guilty. 

And then they swarmed under the grand argive 
of the Gothic portal, and implored all the saints 
who were tired out in their stone niches, to inter- 
cede for them to the good God, and to Monsieur 
le Cure. Monsieur le Cure, the first pastor of the 
diocese. He was short, fat, and unctuous ; with a 
ladder of buttons which descended to the bands of 


23 ° the price of a coronet. 

his frock. They had called him the “ Canon ” 
with good reason, for the cape bordered with 
ermine became him to a marvelous degree. His 
voice was soft and oily when he spoke on this 
earth as a simple, mortal man, but some envious 
ones pretended to say that his voice was harsh and 
stern, when, from the pulpit, that nearest station to 
heaven, he sought to upbraid the wicked, revo- 
lutionary ones. 

For about fifteen years the church had been 
covered inside and outside with a coating of dust 
and mildew, which time deposits on old buildings ; 
the organ only uttered strange sounds, quite 
strange to harmony. The faithful ones could 
scarcely distinguish the stations of the cross before 
which they knelt ; and among the tombs of the side 
aisles, on the luminous lights of the stained glass 
windows, rose a high altar, which spread its carved 
curves and wreaths in stone, and its sun in gilt 
wood. 

It was now that the cure knew well how to 
awaken the pride of the Livonais, as much in the 
people, the bourgeoisie, and the nobility. 

In acting thus, the cur£ deserved to burn in 
eternal flames for all his flock, for pride is one of 
the seven capital sins. It was simply pride which 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 231 

induced the Vidame of Lontras to deprive herself 
of spending the season at Cauterets, so that the 
new window of the Chapel to the Virgin should 
bear this legend : 

“ Given by the Vidame de Lontras.” 

The Comte de Mercoeur gave a chapel on the 
lower side. That of Saint Joseph gave rise to a 
Homeric discussion. The grace did not wish to 
pay the whole expense, because the face of the 
holy carpenter did not quite resemble the ideal one 
which haunted his imagination. 

The penny, the halfpenny by day to the poor 
people, which the cure had promised to the poorest 
one, this little penny was enough to scratch the 
walls, and to draw at the end of the church each 
stone, with a little red paint in the middle, which 
gave from this side the effect of a grocery shop. 
Grated windows which, placed between the outside 
pillars, prevented the little urchins to utilize them 
as hiding corners when playing at hide and seek, 
and the great arches which opened on the large 
doors and graced the flight of stone steps, had been 
covered with a tint of blue paint which made the 
wits and beaux esprits to laugh at the bad taste of 
Monsieur le Cure. 

The old stations of the cross had been replaced 


232 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

by fourteen hangings of Boulenger, framed in oak. 
And the ancient high altar, with its curved and 
twisted carvings, was removed to make room for a 
miniature altar made of marble and brass, plated, 
trimmed up, and colored with lace and little balls, 
giving the idea of a fete-day cake, decorated with 
the gew-gaws of Epinal. 

Notwithstanding the crude, bad taste, and, above 
all, ignorance, which dominated the restoration of 
the church of Livone, it presented a fine appear- 
ance with its long and delicate spire, its high pil- 
lars and columns exquisitely chiseled, jutting out of 
the keys of the arches, upon which were sculptured 
the coat of arms of the archbishop of the diocese ; 
also the arms of the Pope, and of the Counts of 
Mercoeur. 

The second Sunday which followed the arrival 
at Mercoeur, Jeanne and her husband went to the 
nine o’clock mass, which Raoul had forgotten the 
preceding Sunday. Aunt de Lansac had scolded a 
little on this matter : 

“ What ! miss the nine o’clock mass ? ” 

The week had passed so rapidly with the young 
wife, getting installed, settled, and the hundred and 
one little details of the house, which had never 
been occupied for ten years. 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 233 

Jeanne had thoroughly examined the chateau, 
and sometimes, helping Joseph and his mother, 
she had given her taste and her Parisian ideas, 
having already the desire to build a conservatory 
in the corridor which looked out on the Court of 
Honor ; making also a separation in the form 
of a cross, in the middle of this court ; laid in 
turf, so as to make a lawn. Then sending to 
Paris the portraits in the salon which required 
restoration, ordering also for the high windows 
those marvels of lace curtains almost unknown in 
the south, where luxury in furniture is not thought 
of ; in a word, she acted up the promise she made 
to herself to embellish Mercoeur. 

She found it quite natural that Raoul should 
leave her for part of the day to visit his aunt. She 
had arranged that she should not visit until the 
settling of the chateau had been finished. 

“ Really, my dear,” said Raoul, “ you will tire 
yourself.” 

She always replied, looking straight into her 
husband’s face : 

“ I am so happy to do this.” 

And to see her thus occupied, managing in the 
chateau, ordering a great wash, superintending the 
servant’s work, seeking little by little to learn the 


234 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

dialect of the peasantry, it seemed to Raoul that 
the days of his youth had returned, and that his 
mother still lived in this world. 

There were certain details which often brought 
the tears to Raoul’s eyes. Thus, the bouquet 
gathered at the moment before dinner, and put at 
the same corner of the table where his mother 
usually put it. And by a happy chance Jeanne 
had divined the very flower vase which his mother 
had also used. 

Jeanne had carried to the salon the music of her 
young days, but all the folios remained packed up, 
and when she seated herself before the piano, she 
took the old dusty folios, yellow, with torn off 
corners, to play what Raoul’s mother had played. 

Thanks to these first important occupations of 
his wife, Raoul could carry out his ends actively 
with his Aunt de Lansac. 

He had already met with difficulties, being 
obliged to carry on the property sale with secrecy. 
Raoul was in haste to finish the sale, and neverthe- 
less Lousseteau could not find any purchaser. 
The banker Lestious sought on his side. The 
success of the affair was certain, but it seemed it 
would last for several weeks longer, before it would 
be completely settled. 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 235 

Toward the end of the second week of their stay 
at Mercoeur, Raoul said to Jeanne : 

“ Are you inclined to make some visits ? We 
cannot keep ourselves any longer from seeing our 
friends and those of my family.” 

Jeanne, after breakfast, went up into her room, 
and came down again, simply, but coquettishly at- 
tired, saying : 

“ You can tell them to harness now, for I am at 
your orders.” 

Raoul waited impatiently for the opening scene 
of the situation. He knew that soon he had to pay 
Bressac, and destroy the infamous letter, and go 
away. He wished, before quitting Livone, to pre- 
sent the Countess of Mercoeur to the nobility of 
the vicinity, to his old comrades in the town ; he 
wished that they should return his visits, so that 
his position with them should be established in 
case of his wife having to live alone in the immense 
chateau. He felt sure that Jeanne would continue 
to live alone, almost as a recluse, sacrificing her- 
self to the education of her son. During these 
visits, Jeanne was chagrined and tired by the 
visitors talking of nothing but Paris , the prome- 
nades, the theaters, the boulevards, the parties, the 
fetes of Paris ! And in every house she heard 


236 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

the same remark, “ Ah, you will find it very dull 
here after Paris ! ” 

Notwithstanding the ridiculousness of this primi- 
tive society, as much among the middle class as in 
the noblesse , despite the reserved air of these stiff 
salons, despite the awkward salutations, the em- 
barrassed manners and sentences of these people 
who saw her for the first time, she always returned 
happy to the chateau. She discovered that every- 
where they esteemed and loved her husband. 
Then everywhere they had spoken of her child. 

“ You will let us see him ? ” 

She surmised that they were grateful to her for 
having brought her son to Livone, so that he might 
become a Livonais. And then she won over the 
most difficult people, by saying these simple 
words : 

“ If we could have so arranged it, we should 
have come here several months ago ; but this was 
impossible.” 

Among the nobility of the neighborhood, the 
Combat, the other branch of the de Lansacs, the 
Marsies, the relations of de Roquemont, the 
Vidame de Lontras, she felt that they were dis- 
posed beforehand to receive her well, not on ac- 
count of her intelligence or her ladylike manners, 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 237 

but because she was a link in the chain of nobility 
which was drawing together more firmly and closely. 
She excused all defects, the follies of this little 
world, only to find in it what was frank, honest and 
cordial. She felt certain in giving her hand to 
the banker Lestious, that she had shaken the hand 
of a friend. Raoul told her that his friend was an 
orphan and lived with his infirm grandmother. 
Not seeing the grandmother in the salon, she asked 
to be presented to her. It was only a few words, 
a little walk into the old lady’s room, two or three 
inclinations before the black dress and trembling 
figure in the wheel chair by the window, Lestious 
saying : 

“ This is Raoul’s wife, good mother ! ” 

“Ah, ah!” And the old lady, trembling more 
strongly than before, said, “ Ah ! ah ! ” but 
Jeanne’s few words had established between the 
banker and the young wife a bond of sympa- 
thy. 

Jeanne experienced a new pleasure on the next 
Sunday morning in the thought that she could go 
to the mass and there find all those friends to 
whom she had paid visits during the week. Then 
it was certain that there she would not see either 
Bressac or Gaetana, and that in the crowd assem- 


238 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


bled there, no one would suspect the feebleness of 
her husband — his fault. 

She had arrived almost happy, and did not 
doubt that she was the object of attraction to the 
Livonais. She became absorbed in the contem- 
plation of the sun’s rays, which descended like a 
luminous sheet in the painted windows of the 
choir. Aunt de Lansac had taken care to arrange 
two Prie Dieu chairs with the arms of Mercoeur, 
beside her own Prie Dieu chair in the 'first row. 
For be it remarked, notwithstanding all the revo- 
lutions, the changes of government, the noblesse 
of Livonaise always occupied the first row in 
church, the tradespeople placed themselves after 
them, and the middle of the church was reserved 
for the people and peasantry. Some of the newly 
rich families seated themselves at the end, at the 
foot of the organ, with those men who had come 
just to show themselves and gossip together. 

The entrance of the Mercoeurs had provoked a 
general curiosity from the moment when Raoul 
had offered the holy water, in bowing low, to the 
moment when the two knelt down. There were 
some whisperings with the rustle of the chairs, 
some frivolous remarks about the Parisian bonnet, 
and on the toilette. They found Jeanne too sim- 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 239 

ply dressed, they thought that she did not wish to 
do honor to the Livonaise by her fine toilettes, for 
she ought to know at Livone people dressed them- 
selves in their richest and best for the nine o’clock 
mass. 

Madame Saint Blaise knew well this custom, or 
rather she had the custom in her blood, for she 
respected it as much in Paris as in the provinces. 
And by a curious coincidence Madame Saint Blaise 
was at the nine o’clock mass on that same Sunday. 

The Saint Blaise family were not expected for 
three weeks. But without doubt some important 
reason had determined the deputy to use his holi- 
day permit before the vacations. He, his wife, 
and their children had arrived in the town. It was 
an inviolable custom of Madame Saint Blaise to 
arrive at Livone by the last train on a Saturday, 
incognito, so that the next day they learn her 
arrival at once throughout the county. For 
Madame la Depute, this unexpected apparition 
at the mass on Sunday was like an official entry 
into her good town of Livone. She always showed 
herself in bright colors, flanked by her two girls. 
And the people considered they were entitled to be 
the first, most elegant, and best dressed women in 
their town. The Livonais had that morning sev- 


240 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


eral objects of study. Besides their presence there 
were also two strangers, a woman, tab, large, 
handsome, elegant, in a showy, loud toilette, a 
dress of light veiling, white, with colored flowers, 
cut very low, a scarlet umbrella with black border- 

/ 

ings, and a splendid looking face, which showed a 
fine complexion under the veil ; the Livonais did 
not perceive the face was painted. 

They were struck by her graceful manner of 
kneeling with the lovely missal book, in red 
leather and silver clasps. But who was the thin, 
dark young man, with’ the air of an officer, who 
also accompanied Madame Saint Blaise ? 

“ I assure you,” said one of the Livonais, “ it is 
he.” 

“ Bah ! Why should he return here ? ” 

However, he looked at the arch, the chapels, the 
spans, the columns, and the little kind of curb 
stone which was used for illuminations, as the kind 
of things which all good Livonais are glad to see 
again. 

It was the curb stone which seemed to attract 
his attention, that curb where the children, the 
service 'over, have loved, and still love to run 
along at the risk of killing themselves. After all, 
it was perhaps he ! Was it not mentioned that he 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


241 


had made a fortune in Paris ? He was quite 
clever enough to do that. And, in that case, it 
was quite natural he should be in company with 
Madame Saint Blaise. The Deputy of Livone 
liked to be surrounded by intelligent, able 
people. 

Then the mass begun, their first curiosity satis- 
fied, in waiting for the discourse of Monsieur le 
Cure, which obliged the faithful ones to turn 
and show their faces, the men at the end of the 
church began to talk of an affair which since the 
morning had absorbed them. 

“ Have you read ? ” 

“ What then ? ” 

“The placard." 

“ Yes, the yellow one.” 

“ Seemingly there is a heavy sum to gain.” 

“ As for me, I shall ask Lestious before I en- 
gage to do anything.” 

“ For anything else that would be prudent, but 
for this ? ” 

“ And what guarantee have you ? ” 

“ How ! a guarantee. What — from our de- 

puty ? ” 

“ Ah ! he is in it ? ” 

“ If he is in it ” 


*4 2 THE price of a coronet. 

“ Why, he brings out the affair.” 

“ Then, in that case ” 

Therefore, as Saint Blaise was in it, numbers of 
the Livonais felt reassured in reading the great 
yellow placards, with which the bill-stickers had 
covered the country. 

A MAGNIFICENT AFFAIR ! 
“SOCIETY OF THE NICKEL MINES OF MONTE- 
ZUCCA.” 

Capital Fifteen Millions of Francs. 

Principal Office at Paris. 

President — Monsieur Van Dernicht, 

Rue St. Fiacre , No. 7 . 

The first lines were separate, in great letters, 
characters grand and large, “ to catch the eye,” and 
the inhabitants of Livone and the neighboring 
villages had all read the placard as soon as it was 
fixed, and also read the advertisement which was 
written under the heading : 

The public has perhaps noticed for several years the impor- 
tance that nickel has acquired in the application of art to indus- 
try. 

Following some observations on art industries 
and on decorative art, etc., and after some pom- 
pous phrases, the advertisement again returned to 
nickel, the domestic uses of this metal, which 
astonished the silly boobies, and which has been 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 243 

a long time written and found in contemporary 
dictionaries : 

The nickel which came formerly from the Caucasus, the 
nickel which a wealthy financial family tried in vain to draw 
from New Caledonia, when it is so easy to find at the very 
doors of France, even here in the South. 

What an infinite source of benefit it would be if one could 
bring this same nickel to France, without having to pay trans- 
port or duties ! 

Well, this is possible. And this time the cost and expenses 
of the South would not go to enrich the capitalists or monop- 
olists of the Capital. Some mines of considerable size have 
been found in the south of Spain. Their returns are sure, the 
quality is superior to those of all the other nickel mines. The fu- 
ture of nickel is in the mines of Montezucca ! These mines 
now belong to us. Some large banking firms wished to buy 
them of us, but the men who are at the head of this enterprise 
are not common financiers, greedy of realizing benefits. In 
putting themselves at the head of the Society of the Mines of 
Montezucca they have only thought of their country, to this part 
of France where they have lived as children, where they have 
all their interests and sympathies. Masters of the situation, 
they have come to say to you, “ We have a special affair to di- 
rect. Will you come and help us partake of the profits, or 
would you prefer that this affair becomes the prey of the men 
of the North, as many others have done? We to-day demon- 
strate clearly, succintly, to the public, the marvelous project 
which we propose. We cannot yet give the list of all the great 
names who will form the Council of Administration of this 
Society , for we wish it complete before we do so. But the pub- 
lic may be sure that these names will be the safest guarantee of 
the mines of Montezucca. 

Lestious had shrugged his shoulders when they 
told him about this sentimental circular, but he took 


244 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

care not to express his impression to the Livonais, 
contenting himself by replying, when questioned 
about these famous mines : 

“I never trouble myself about the Bourse.” 

It was only since Sunday morning that the news 
had spread that Saint Blaise was in town. While 
among themselves, the practical ones talked over the 
grand affair at the end of the church ; the deputy 
on the square, surrounded by his faithful friends, 
was making a complete essay on metallurgy. 

“ Exceptional advantages, my friends ! I have 
seen the moment when the Rothschilds wished to 
strangle this affair, because of their mines in New 
Caledonia. And I said to myself, “ It is not too 
grand an affair, fifteen millions ! I shall reserve 
this for the South ; it will be an enterprise for our 
region — our department. And all the world will 
take an interest in it. I shall in this case forget my 
political opinions, to the end that I may show an 
impartiality in affairs. I shall unite the most honor- 
able of names ; besides I have promises. I know 
all the gentlemen from Livone who live in Paris, 
all have promised me ; all share in this.” 

And the Livonais said : 

“ This Saint Blaise — he knows everything.” 

Saint Blaise very naturally, without the slightest 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 245 

ostentation, replied, interrupting his theories on 
cobalt and nickel : 

“You know, in the Chamber we must understand 
all questions.” 

Then again he resumed about his metallurgy : 

“ The mines of Montezucca have great advan- 
tages.” 

The service of the mass finished, Jeanne rose 
and directed her steps to the entrance of the 
church with Raoul and his aunt. The calm of 
this great church had done her good. 

Jeanne felt sleepy, and feeling Raoul by her 
side, she experienced a sort of vision of their first 
meeting at Bellevue, in the little church which 
stands on the slopes of the railway. 

Since her arrival at Mercoeur, she strove to 
think of her old happiness, and forget the ruin of 
her love. Raoul took the holy water, which he 
offered to her, also to his aunt ; his fingers 
wet. She turned to make the sign of the cross, 
facing the altar, and found .all eyes fixed on her. 
Then they went out of the wide portals of the 
church. 

“ My aunt, pray accept my arm.” 

“ No, no ! give it to your wife ; an old lady like 
me walks alone.” 


246 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

At this moment, in the midst of the crowd, they 
heard themselves addressed : 

“ Raoul ! Good-morning ! How are you, dear 
Countess ? ” 

The crowd had stopped to see these elegant 
people salute each other. They were Madame 
Saint Blaise and her two girls ; the Duke and 
Duchess de Roquemont. The Mercoeurs only 
saw them at first ; and though they entertained an 
antipathy for them they greeted them with cour- 
tesy. They distinguished behind the Roquemonts, 
who did not conceal themselves, Bressac and Gae- 
tana, with a malicious smile on their lips, also tak- 
ing their part in the salutation of their friends. 

Raoul became livid ; his arm dropped Jeanne’s ; 
but already the young wife had retaken Raoul’s, 
whispering in his ear : 

“ Not here, Raoul, it would be unworthy of 
you.” 


XVII. 


On arriving at the chateau, Jeanne, a little con- 
fused and stupefied, felt a storm gathering around 
her, and overcome with emotion, as formerly in 
Paris, walked about in the dining-room, talking in 
disjointed sentences to Aunt Economy. 

“ But sit down, little one, you will tire yourself.” 

“ No, no, my aunt.” 

She stopped before the picture frames to adjust 
them, to do over again the folds of the curtains?, 
which she found very ungraceful ; arranged the 
pots of flowers the blinds, the chairs, seeking 
among these minor details a distraction from her 
anxiety. 

The breakfast had been a silent one, and the 
return from church not more gay. 

The apparition, so sudden, of Bressac and of 
Gaetana, under the grand portal of the church, had 
entirely checked, frozen, all the hopes of the young 
wife. She suspected that Raoul was going to 
strike this miserable villain, and she congratulated 
herself on preventing him. 


247 


248 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

“ But now, my aunt, do you know where Raoul 
is?” 

“ Is Raoul out, then ? I did not know it.” 

She told an untruth, this good old lady ; she knew 
well enough that Raoul had left soon after break- 
fast ; she had a long talk with him while Jeanne 
was occupied with her child. Meantime, Jeanne 
tried to see clearly into the situation. Why were 
Bressac and Gaetana at Livone? with the Saint 
Blaises ? the Roquements ? No doubt it was a 
machination of Bressac's ! ” 

One thing reassured her ; that was, during all 
the meal time Raoul seemed very calm. Jeanne 
understood Raoul was disturbed by passion, but it 
was a cool, courageous feeling. She knew that 
their false situation must have an end, and the end 
approached. Raoul ought to be master of the 
situation. She felt it. She wished it to be. 

Oh ! if Aunt de Lansac had only had the happy 
thought to leave them alone for a moment, she 
would have said to him : 

“ Raoul, a man like you does not fight a poor 
wretch like Bressac. He contents himself by 
sending him away, and giving him money. We 
are rich ; take what you want. Obliterate him ; 
let him disappear.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


249 


It was wrong of Raoul to go away without con- 
fiding in her. Evidently he had gone to hasten 
the end, and to drive away this man. And 
she ought to stay at home, and receive her 
visitors. 

“ It was the custom in the Mercoeur family,” 
Aunt de Lansac said, “ not to leave the chateau 
on a Sunday. The mother of Raoul held her 
receptions on Sunday, little one. You will see all 
our friends arrive in flocks — the Combats, the 
Vidame. This poor Vidame does not know what 
to do, now that I have given up piquet. And the 
Marquise de Nuylaurens, and the abbe ! Look ! 
here comes the abbe in a chair ; they are all call- 
ing him Monsieur le Cur£. I cannot, in our world, 
call him anything else but l’abbe.” 

She tried to laugh, in assuming the airs of an 
old marquise ; really she was as agitated as 
Jeanne. 

Jeanne placed herself on a stool beside the arm- 
chair of Mademoiselle de Lansac. She lifted to- 
ward her her lovely eyes, which were dimmed with 
tears. 

The old lady would have tried to utter a pleas- 
ant joke, but only could find these words : “ Hear 
now, Jeanne, I adore you ! ” 


250 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

She then pressed Jeanne toward her, as if de- 
fending her from danger. 

“And Raoul does not return. My aunt, do 
speak to me frankly. I do wish to know where he 
has gone ; I am courageous.” 

“ But I assure you, little one, I do not know.” 

The commencement of the conversation was inter- 
rupted by the rumbling noise of one of those heavy 
berlins, in which all the country folks travel. The 
Marquis de Nuylaurens descended from the berlin, 
and then turned at once to assist the marquise to 
alight. Both of them trembled with old age, but 
they entered very gayly into the salon, arm in arm. 

“ I present to you the wife of Raoul,” said Aunt 
de Lansac, who knew that the Nuylaurens were not 
at home when Raoul had taken his wife there. 

The marquise advanced to Jeanne, saying : 

“ Permit me to kiss you.” The marquis bent 
very low to kiss Jeanne’s hand, and remained some 
seconds, because he could with difficulty get up 
again. 

“ I knew your husband ; I knew him when he 
was no higher than that ! He made mischief and 
devilment.” 

As there were no strangers present they did not 
shower themselves with titles. Other friends, other 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 251 

relatives, came again now ; all the Cousins de Lan- 
sac and de Combat. Gaston de Combat spread his 
white gloves on his knees, and to show his profound 
knowledge of Parisian society, he asked with no?i- 
chalance : 

“ And that dear General de Moustil, is he in 
good health ? ” 

Lansac shut his eyes a little and passed his hand 
over his beard, the finest beard in Livone. 

“ And Raoul ” 

“ Raoul begs you will excuse him, my cousin, but 
he will be back directly.” 

The wagonette of the de Roquemonts arrived, 
making a great noise. 

The duchess threw herself into the salon, mak- 
ing little frightened cries, and mocking little grim- 
aces. 

“ Ah ! dear beauty, dear countess ! ” 

Then, turning to the dowager, she gave a bold 
smile, and said some amiable words, but Aunt 
Economy turned her back on her, to say a good- 
morning to the Marquis de Lontras. Still young, 
with his hair quaintly dressed, and his beard a la 
Henry IV, the marquis could not contain his pleas- 
ure in entering again the salon where he had shone 
for so many years, always on Sundays. Seeing the 


252 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

pots of flowers, the beautiful lace curtains, the 
draperies of guipure in such exquisitely fine taste, 
and gracefully coquettish too, he murmured to him- 
self : 

“ Oh, these Parisiennes, these Parisiennes ! ” 

They then crowded by degrees into the salon, 
and Jeanne felt a great joy in seeing this company 
of perhaps awkward, but good, honest people, with 
their hearts open to the child of the country, who 
returned to them with his young wife, who knew 
how to find a smile for each and all of them. 

Then they felt happy that the chateau was alive 
and occupied again ; for ten years it had seemed 
like something dead. 

Each time that Jeanne and Aunt de Lansac, 
terrified to be alone in receiving these visits, 
watched and looked at the avenue, which was 
white and dusty, and bordered with little iron work 
in front of the salon, they saw arrive new groups 
either of gentlemen, or country and towns-people. 
Raoul in his school studies had always fraternized 
with the children of Livone ; he had the good sense 
to consider them not all as friends, but as com- 
rades. He had visited them all with Jeanne; the 
return of these ceremonious visits mixed up in 
the salon of the Chateau de Mercoeur all the 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 253 

people who at Livone scarcely recognized each 
other. 

Now, even the clergy appeared. Two black 
profiles were seen turning the road. 

Monsieur le Cure, after vespers, had requested 
his youngest curate to accompany him to Mer- 
coeur. He came to pay his respects to the son of 
the count, who had so generously permitted him to 
beautify the parish church. He wished also to 
pay homage to him, the Count of Mercoeur, as rep- 
resenting that legitimacy which forms the hope of 
liberal Catholicism in France. 

In talking with his curate, Monsieur le Cure had 
laughed at the bow given by the deputy Saint 
Blaise, just by the presbytery. 

“ Saint Blaise ! Saint Blaise ! Oh, go along 
with him ! He was good enough when we did not 
have a Mercoeur ! ” 

The respect which every one feels for the pastor 
made them all rise up in the salon to receive him. 

Jeanne offered him an arm-chair near her, while 
the curate ensconced himself between Combat and 
de Lansac. Monsieur le Cure breathed hard, foi 
the road was long from the presbytery to the 
chateau. Every one remained silent, so that he 
might direct the conversation. 


254 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

“ We can scarcely tell you, Madame la Comtesse, 
how happy we are to have you inside our walls, 
our walls/' He looked over his spectacles to say 
this. He stopped, again wanting to breathe, and 
now the conversation began again. 

It was a cross-fire of odd remarks ; the news of 
the country, all throughout one end, for each one 
to be remarked by the mistress of the house. The 
cure profited by rare moments of silence to launch 
forth his most important sentences. 

Our pilgrimage will leave for Lourdes the first 
week of next month. The company have told me 
this.” 

The cure passed half his time in collecting peo- 
ple for his pilgrimage. Jeanne did not occupy 
herself about the pilgrimage or the useless proposi- 
tions launched forth about it, for a moment since 
some names had struck her. They were names 
pronounced by some young men who were talking 
to Roquemont in a corner of the salon. They 
were talking about something which interested the 
country; an absolute silence supervened. Jeanne 
asked : 

“ Of what are you speaking, Monsieur de Roque- 
mont ? ” 

Roquemont placed his eye-glass in his right eye, 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 255 

similar to a barrister pleading a cause which he has 
learned by heart. 

“ You are not ignorant, perhaps, countess, that 
nickel, day by day, has taken a place of serious im- 
portance in its application to the industrial arts 
and sciences ! ” 

It was with some various boulevardiers, the 
high-flown pathos composed by Saint Blaise on the 
yellow placard of the mines of Montezucca. And 
the demonstration was continuing en train. “Su- 
perb affair, reserved by Saint Blaise for his compa- 
triots. For us!” 

Aunt Economy stopped him shortly : 

“ Pardon, duke ! ” 

It seemed that Mademoiselle de Lansac must 
have been violently agitated to launch out the 
word “ duke ! ” 

“ Pardon, duke, will you explain to us how it is 
that a man of your name and rank should be so 
great an admirer of Saint Blaise — a Republican 
deputy ? ” 

Roquemont was a little troubled by the disdain- 
ful tone of Mademoiselle de Lansac, and replied, as 
if to excuse himself : 

“ But it was the Baroness of San Rinazzi who 
presented me to him ! ” 


* 5 ' 6 THE PRICE OF a CO ROHE T. 

Aunt de Lansac burst out into a good laugh. 

“ The Baroness of San Rinazzi ? Who in the 
world is she ? ” 

“ The Countess of Mercoeur can tell you better 
than I can, Mademoiselle ; also my friend Raoul.” 

Raoul, for the tenth time they talked of him ; 
and Jeanne repeated the same thing : 

“ You must excuse Monsieur de Mercoeur, he 
will be here soon.” 

And Raoul did not come. 

Raoul, in a feverish state of mind, sat down in 
the handsome private room of Banker Lestious; he 
was as impatient as Jeanne. 

He had gone out directly after lunch, taking 
with him the signature of his aunt, authorizing him 
to do all that was required to liquidate promptly, 
in one day even, the sale of her property. 

Lestious saw him arrive at the moment, at the 
very moment he was preparing to visit Mercoeur, 
to render his homage to the countess. 

“ I want to speak to you immediately,” said 
Raoul. 

“ Some trouble, then ? ” 

“ Come into your private room ; I must see you 
alone.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 257 

And then and there, Lestious, as much affected as 
his friend, heard what Raoul could not confess with- 
out avowing his own shame. 

“ You know that I owe three hundred thousand 
francs ? ” 

“ Yes, I know that.” 

“ It is to Bressac that I owe it.” 

“ Our old comrade.” 

Lestious pronounced this with an air of contempt. 

“ That may astonish you ; but it is thus. I will 
not tell you the nature of the debt, but suppose it 
was a gambling debt.” 

“ I understand. You want this three hundred 
thousand francs at once to pay this gentleman and 
turn him away from Livone.” 

“ It is for this that I wish to see and speak to 
you.” 

“ Let us see. Now, it is agreed that I lend you 
a hundred thousand francs. Have you the signa- 
ture of Mademoiselle de Lansac for the sale of her 
properties ? For, it is natural that I must have a 
warrant or security, a guarantee for the rest of that 
sum.” 

Raoul gave him a paper. 

“ This is my aunt’s power of attorney. You can 
register it to-morrow.” 


258 THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 

“ Good. I will dictate an agreement between us, 
and give you a letter of change, payable on Wednes- 
day. I must have one day to get the money in the 
bank.” 

The young banker rapidly directed the requisite 
documents. 

Raoul in looking at him felt his soul elevated by 
a profound sentiment of admiration. Not to have 
seen his college friend since his boyhood — that far 
away in Paris — in the cafes and wine shops — think- 
ing himself almost forgotten by him — to find him a 
friend who without one word of reproach saves 
your honor ! 

When Lestious had finished, he stated : 

“ It is all done, Raoul.” 

Raoul gave him his hand. 

“ Thanks, thanks, my old friend.” 

Both men were profoundly moved. 

“ Let us go to the chateau, now, Raoul.” 

“ No, not yet. Will you first send a line to Bres- 
sac ? He is no doubt visiting at the house of Saint 
Blaise.” 

Raoul wrote on his card : 

The Comte de Mercoeur begs you to come immediately to 
the office of Monsieur Lestious, banker, where he awaits to 
settle the affair between us. 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


2 59 


“ You will leave us for awhile alone, and then we 
can go down to the chateau.” 

They remained silent, waiting for Bressac’s re- 
ply. Soon the servant returned, and Raoul uttered 
a cry of rage when he read : 

Jean Marie Bressac sends his compliments to the Comte de 
Mercoeur. It is useless for him to accept the rendezvous men- 
tioned, because at this very instant he is going to present his 
respects to the Countess Mercoeur, accompanied by the Baro- 
ness San Rinazzi and Monsieur Saint Blaise. They can be met 
in the chateau. 

“ Miserable wretch! ” cried Raoul. 

“ What is it ? ” 

“ He dares to visit the chateau ! Come along ! 
you do not fear this deputy Saint Blaise ?” 

“ Parbleu ! No, no.” 

“ Let us run, then. We will take the cross road 
which runs along by the cemetery. We must get 
there first to drive them away.” 

Roquemont had scarcely finished speaking of 
Saint Blaise, of the Baroness San Rinazzi, and the 
mines of Montezucca, when Raoul and Lestious 
entered the salon by a side door. This sudden 
entrance of these two men caused a sensation. 

“What is the matter with you, Raoul?” asked 
Jeanne. 


26 o 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


“ Nothing at all, my dear; only we were hurried, 
that is all.” 

Raoul had regained his composure, as they saw 
the troop of Bressac had not come yet. He had 
begun to shake hands, and inquire after the health 
of his visitors, never taking his eye off the avenue 
leading up to the chateau. The cure had under- 
taken to speak about the pilgrimage to Lourdes ; 
the Marquis of Nuylaurens had kissed him on both 
cheeks. 

9 

Roquemont, watching the avenue as if he ex- 
pected some one, approached Raoul, and said in a 
voice loud enough to be heard by every one present: 

“ My dear friend, Mademoiselle de Lansac has 
just asked me who is this Baronne San Rinazzi. I 
told her that you could inform her better about 
Madame than I can; also about this affair of Mon- 
tezucca, of which I have only heard by gossip and 
hearsay. It seems that you are concerned in it. 
You know well these nickel mines.” 

Raoul replied unheedingly : 

“ What affair ? What mines ? ” 

“ Those mines which you are to direct with 
Saint Blaise.” 

“ Oh! go along, you are joking, Roquemont.” 

“ No, indeed; Saint Blaise told me yesterday.” 


THE PRICE OE A CORONET. 


261 


“ Saint Blaise could never have told you anything 
concerning me in it, for I do not know him ; he 
does not know me. I have never even spoken to 
him.” 

“ Pardieu ! This is too much,” cried Roque- 
mont, pushing furiously his eye-glass under his 
eye-brow. “ Look, my dear friend ; here is Saint 
Blaise, whom you do not know ; on his arm, Ma- 
dame de San Rinazzi, whom you may perhaps 
know better, without doubt.” 

Raoul turned coldly to Roquemont, saying 
thus : 

“ Leave off your raillery, duke ; I do not think 
it becomes you.” 

Then Roquemont drew himself up, but he 
judged it prudent to regain the seat by the side of 
the duchess, finding that Mercoeur was not at all 
like a commercial man, as Bressac assured him he 
was. 

All the attention was centered on Raoul and 
Lestious, who stood at the entrance of the salon, 
not speaking a word and waiting. 

It was not without great misgiving that the 
deputy Saint Blaise had consented to visit at the 
chateau of Mercoeur. He had boasted on all 


2 62 THE price of a coronet. 

sides that the Count of Mercoeur was in the 
“affair.” Bressac had vauntingly told him v “We 
hold him in our hands ; we will make him do all 
we desire.” Gaetana had been obliged to flatter 
and encourage the brave deputy, who quite under- 
stood that he went unarmed into a battle. 

At Paris everything had prospered. The Ro- 
quemonts, the Marsies, on the representations of 
Gaetana, and hoodwinked by the assurance that 
Mercoeur was in this thing, had been amiable, 
very considerate toward Saint Blaise and his family. 
Roquemont had given a great dinner, where they 
had discussed the basis of the affair. They had 
again spoken of the consent of Raoul as some- 
thing definite and understood. And Saint Blaise 
imagined that when he arrived in Livone he should 
find a message from Raoul, begging him to come 
to the chateau. Instead of that, only a freezing 
bow, almost disdainful, to Madame Saint Blaise on 
leaving the church ; nothing, more. 

And if he ever spoke of Mercoeur to the Livo- 
nais, they always spoke in high eulogy : “ This 
Raoul — a real, veritable child of the country ; his 
wife is charming, not proud.” 

Notwithstanding the wishes of Gaetana, Ma- 
dame Saint Blaise had refused to accompany them, 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 263 

and her husband had left home alone with the 
baroness and Bressac, unquiet and doubting. 

But feeling a baroness on his arm, this inspired 
the deputy with a little confidence. 

“ You are quite certain we shall be well re- 
ceived, my dear baroness ? ” 

“ Yes, I assure you that Monsieur de Mercoeur 
expects us.” 

“ And you, Bressac ; do not you feel any anx- 
iety ? ” 

“Not now, since you saw me send a note to 
Raoul.” 

The two adventurers exchanged wicked looks 
between them, similar to the looks of birds of prey 
when gloating over a field of carnage. 

Bressac, with his false, wrong pride, felt proud 
to wrestle on his country, where through a fault he 
had committed they had driven him away, so that 
he could avenge his country in ruining it, or 
rather revenge himself in ruining his country. To 
be revenged ! He took pleasure in humiliating 
the little daughter of a tradesman who had driven 
him away, like the other traders in the country. 

“ Come on,” he said to himself ; “ this is a 
fine, bold stroke, with half a million in prospect- 


ive. 


264 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

As to the rendezvous Raoul had given him, it 
was undoubtedly to beg him to make some ar- 
rangement. 

They arrived near to the chateau, Saint Blaise 
with the baroness on his arm, Bressac a little 
behind, cutting off with the end of his cane the 
stalks of the plants in the borders, and shaking as 
he approached. Then he saw that Raoul ex- 
pected them ; but Saint Blaise, blinded by the sun, 
failed to distinguish the knitted, contracted face of 
Raoul. 

Jeanne quickly turned to Raoul : “ What will 
you do ? ” * 

Raoul coolly said : “ I never could have 

thought that these people were bold enough to 
carry their audacity up to the point of presenting 
themselves at your house,- Madame. I am going 
to send them off.” 

In the salon not a word. Gentlemen and 
tradesmen had risen ; the ladies were pale and 
livid at the thought of a duel. Combat and Lan- 
sac, in the relation of cousinship, had placed them- 
selves near Raoul. The cure drew his arm-chair 
nearer, and resting his arms on the carvings of the 
elbows, murmured, “ Calm yourself, calm yourself, 
Monsieur the Count.” 


1 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 265 

Jeanne, standing up in the salon, felt herself 
already revenged. An infinite joy seized her. 
She had found Raoul, proud, courageous. 

The new visitors stopped stupefied on the por- 
tico. 

Raoul addressed them : “ What do you wish, 
Madame ? What do you wish, gentlemen ?” 

Then there was a silence. Saint Blaise jerked 
out some words : 

“ Dear Monsieur de Mercoeur, Monsieur the 
Count.” 

“ Go on, sir ; speak on. What have you come 
to do here ? Eh ! ” 

“ Here is Madame la Baronesse and Monsieur 
Bressac, your friends.” 

“ You are deceived, Monsieur ; Bressac and 
Madame are not friends of mine.” 

In a corner of the room, Roquemont, inclining 
his ear to his wife, whispered, “This poor Bressac 
has made a false step ; we acted wisely in not wait- 
ing for him to come here.” 

Bressac, who had remained at the bottom of the 
steps, threw himself against Raoul, saying : 

“ Mercoeur, you will withdraw that speech ?” 

“ Miserable creature ! go away from here ; go 
along with you, for I shall kill you ! ” 


2 66 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


Raoul threw himself before Bressac with his eyes 
fixed on his. Bressac, the knave, trembled before 
Raoul de Mercoeur, who had become an honest 
man. The idea of crying out loud the shame of 
Raoul before his wife, and before his friends, had 
crossed his mind, but he did not dare. He under- 
stood now that Raoul would not draw back, and 
he was afraid. 

Gaetana struck the portico steps with her 
umbrella. 

“ Ah, indeed ! Is there no one here to answer 
this insult — no man here ? ” 

Raoul said tranquilly to her : 

“ Be silent, Madame, and leave Livone at 
once ! ” 

Saint Blaise, feeling that any weakness on his part 
would compromise not only the success of the 
mines of Montezucca, but also his re-election, 
wished to speak in a high tone : 

“ I cannot understand, Monsieur de Mercoeur, 
the meaning of your conduct. In insulting the 
lady on my arm, you insult me ! ” 

“ Monsieur,” said Raoul contemptuously, “ I do 
not wish to take a roundabout course to insult you. 
You have dared to affirm to my compatriots, it 
seems, that I am a party in an affair I know noth- 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 267 

in g of, about mines which you are to direct — 
superintend. In stating this, you lie ! ” 

“ Monsieur, is it a lie ? ” 

Raoul did not answer, but as his servant came 
up to him he said to him : 

“ Joseph, show these people out ! ” 


♦ 


XVII. 

When the house of the grocer Doulens, in the 
middle of the square, was for sale, Saint Blaise 
bought it ; not because it suited him better than 
any other house, but because it was the highest and 
finest in Livone — three stories and attic. 

| All the Livonais who in the afternoon came to 
lounge and gape about the square were forced to 
see the house, and this made it seem to them that 
their deputy ought to be the leader of the depart- 
ment. It was covered with a coat of glittering 
white paint which caused the reflection of the sun 
to shine on the promenaders ; it had a balcony 
which would serve well for the stump speeches 
of a politician. Saint Blaise always used this 
balcony for the illuminations on public fetes. 
The “Balcony Saint Blaise” was as much to be 
elected and chosen as its master, for it had always 
taken part in the fetes and illuminations of all the 
governments. One great advantage of this house 
was, that the polling place was directly in front of 
it, and there was also a seat which the wits of the 
268 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 269 

town had christened “ the box of sardines,” where 
local politicians held impromptu conventions, and 
the richest burgesses of Livone were often to be 
seen there, discoursing on public and private 
matters. This seat is the soul of Livone. All 
tittle-tattle, gossip, calumnies, emanated from 
there, and it was from this seat that the genius 
and talent of the town sprang from. As it was 
the custom of Madame Saint Blaise to arrive on the 
eve of Sunday at Livone, this Sunday she offered 
to her friends and the principal partisans of her 
husband an enormous dinner, the dinner of the 
south, fourteen dishes, six kinds of wines, and 
such sauces as would make an ambassador’s cook 
jealous. Also there was an established idea that 
only thp dinners of the cure could rival those of 
Madame Saint Blaise. 

On this Sunday Madame Saint Blaise had 
promised herself that she would dazzle her guests ; 
would fascinate and charm them, as she herself 
had been dazzled and charmed for a month past, 
by the extraordinary benefits which ought to 
accrue from the emission of the mines of Monte- 
zucca. 

This name “Montezucca” sounded in the 
apartments of Saint Blaise as the war cry of a 


270 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

fortune. “ Montezucca ” had become, among other 
things, the one chosen, the most valued. Answer- 
ing the questions of his young daughters, “ Shall 
we go to the seaside ? ” to the complaints of the 
mother, “ that the dressmaker, the milliner, and 
the tailor, were dunning her for their money," 
Saint Blaise replied to all but one word, the 
magical word of his life, the new sesame : “ Monte- 
zucca.” 

Above his desk in his office, in the salon, and in 
his dining-room, there were several photographs of 
the mines of Montezucca ; the hills, the chain of 
mountains, the roads cut into the rocks, the preci- 
pices, the little village of the first miners, the open- 
ing of the mine, and even a black hole. To his 
friends he showed this black hole, which made a 
black spot on the photograph, and he said simply : 
“ It is there.” 

And really it was a curious circumstance that 
the intimacies of the women commenced all at 
once, when their husbands were mixed up in the 
same financial combinations. It sufficed that the 
affair was eti train , for the last fortnight, for the 
women to pay one another visits. At the end of 
three weeks they invited themselves to dinner ; 
at the end of a month they lent each other music ; 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 271 

then they went in a band to the designers of the 
fashions. 

It was thus that Mesdames Saint Blaise and 
Rechna and the Duchess de Roquemont had be- 
come intimate through the beneficial influence of 
the mines of Montezucca. In these three house- 
holds they were in the habit of postponing every- 
thing till after the announcement of the capitaliz- 
ing of the mines of Montezucca. “ My dears, 
wait for the capitalizing ! then you will see money 
circulating,” their husbands would tell them. 

Saint Blaise, Rechna, and Roquemont only 
uttered this one sentence, but they pronounced it 
with an insolent assurance, as if not for one second 
doubting the success of the undertaking. 

With a united assent they had acknowledged 
that the Bank of Paris, too much tried already, 
would be a bad field for them. So they threw 
themselves on Gascony, armed with this proud 
trump card, “ the interest of the region,” which 
superseded every other consideration. 

“ You are sure of Mercoeur ? ” simply asked 
Roquemont. 

Saint Blaise replied, “Ask Bressac.” 

When questioned, Bressac or Gaetana replied, 
with a grand gesture of certainty : 


272 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


“ Mercoeur? he is with us.” 

The table was handsomely decorated with plants 
and flowers, and arranged for thirty guests. The 
kitchen was in confusion; Madame Saint Blaise 
running about, hither and thither, interrupting her 
toilet. When an unaccustomed odor greeted her 
nostrils, she divided her last minutes between the 
kitchen fire-place and her dressing-room. She 
hurriedly pushed her family, her husband, her 
daughters, to make way for this dinner, which was 
to be her social trump. She had not yet remarked 
the piteous face of the deputy, who had ceased to 
talk to Bressac and Gaetana as soon as she en- 
tered the salon. She had not noticed that Bressac, 
somber, enraged, was quite pale, and that this 
pallor made his skin look more yellow than olive. 

The return from the chateau was harrowing to 
Saint Blaise. 

Up to that time, the poor man was exalted. He 
had thought and he hoped. 

He had mounted the steps of the porch with 
honeyed lips, ready for any cringing in manner 
which he thought requisite, and he was confronted 
with an indignant man, who with a terrible voice 
had driven him away, and had insulted him before 
a great party of the society of Livone. 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 273 

“ It was all your fault, Bressac — your fault.” 

“ Ah ! no, my dear friend, it was you who did not 
know how to introduce yourself. You said ex- 
actly what was enough to prejudice Mercoeur.” 

“ And your Roquemont, who was in the salon, 
did not even stir.” 

“ Roquemont was visiting Mercoeur ; he could 
not decently come to your assistance.” 

“To my assistance ! You mean to yours ! ” 

“ Why that ? It was you he first insulted.” 

Saint Blaise said this timidly, trying to put on to 
Bressac the pain of removing the insult of Raoul, 
but Bressac did not care now to face Raoul.” 

He had left him in Paris, a Count de Mercoeur, 
weak, unarmed, almost cowardly before him ; now 
he found him strong, courageous, full of dignity. 
And he, Bressac, he had trembled when Raoul 
threw this word, “ Miserable creature,” at him. 

While Saint Blaise was slowly following his 
thought, Bressac approached Gaetana, saying in a 
low tone : 

“ I did wrong to retreat ; I ought to have pro- 
voked a scene.” 

“ What scene? ” 

“ To have crushed this little Mercoeur with one 
word ! ” 


274 the price of a coronet. 

“ Imbecile ! ” said Gaetana wickedly, “ and have 
compromised us. And if we lose him, we too are 
lost with him. Go along, then ! If Raoul had 
written to you to-day in giving you a rendezvous 
at the office of Lestious, and if Raoul had dared 
just now to insult us, it is because he has his money 
ready, and he thinks he can balance the situation 
in liquidating the debt in a few moments.” 

“ Well, then ? ” 

“ Well, more than ever we are masters of the 
situation. We will play your last card ; the play 
is for a million ! it is for us to conduct the affair 
wed ? ” 

“ But this insult ?” 

“ And are you sufficiently green and silly as to 
care for anything so insignificant ? ” 

“ Will not the credit of Saint Blaise, a credit 
necessary for the capitalization of the mine, will not 
that be obscured, touched, if there is not a duel ? ” 

“ Oh, pooh, pooh ! Have you never thought 
that this man of politics is like other things — only 
a weather cock, which we permit ourselves to 
maneuver about ? It is he who was insulted ; it 
was he whose arm I held ; it is he who ought to 
fight. Quiet yourself, then ; Mercoeur will never 
fight you.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 275 

“ And if he kills our Saint Blaise ?” 

“ Kill him, no ! We require him. You know 
those kind of duels are never serious. For the 
rest, as de Mercoeur has made an error in polite- 
ness, he must take the consequences ; he must be 
met.” 

Saint Blaise was very agitated just at the mo- 
ment of dinner. He felt he had taken a wrong 
turn, and he shot furious glances at Bressac, whom 
he thought was justly responsible. When, alone 
with him, Saint Blaise returned to the same idea. 

“ At last now, how can you explain this recep- 
tion?” 

“ I assure you, my dear deputy, underneath all 
this there must be a misunderstanding caused by 
you. And now at this minute the whole fact is 
town talk here. Why did you tell every one that 
Mercoeur took part in the affair of Montezucca ? ” 

“ You told me so.” 

“ Without doubt, and you will see that I told 
you the truth ; but you should have kept the 
secret until the last moment. By your manner 
of gossiping you have endangered the success of 
your enterprise.” 

The success of the enterprise ! the mines ! the 
capitalizing of Montezucca ! All this signified 


276 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

little to Saint Blaise ; but his heart was torn with 
the thought that his electors would learn soon that 
he had been insulted. 

“ What will my electors say ? ” 

He walked up and down his salon, he cursed the 
business, the mines, the luxury of his wife and 
daughters. 

“ Then it was for this that he had given up poli- 
tics. To the devil with nickel ! ” And certainly, 
without doubt, the electors had already heard of 
this maladventure ; for the invited guests arrived 
slowly and coldly, as if embarrassed. 

They were all surprised to see the deputy so 
calm, so quiet ; simply with an air of ennui. They 
expected to find him burning with rage, talking of 
vengeance, of a duel. The recital of the scene at 
the chateau had run through the town. This was 
the first act of the tragedy, which left the Livonese 
impatient to know the end. Saint Blaise, their 
deputy, the representative -of their department or 
section of the province, had been insulted by 
Mercoeur, another child of the country, as much 
loved as Saint Blaise ! Two opposite camps 
were formed, and the most insane and wild sup- 
positions were given as the cause of this great 
event. 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


277 


Madame Saint Blaise, in taking her place in the 
salon, asked her husband : 

“ About this visit to the chateau ? ” 

“ Oh, very good, very good ! ” 

The honest man judged it best not to commence 
with a storm in the house. The presence of the 
mayor, who arrived at the same time as the Roque- 
monts, infused a little more courage into him. 

“ Monsieur le Maire, I’m delighted to see you.” 

“ Really, Madame la Duchesse, we are flattered ! ” 

What an astonishment for the Livonese to see 
the Duke and Duchess of Roquemont at the house 
of Saint Blaise, and hear the wife of the deputy 
say to the duchess, “ Dear Beauty, the cat.” 

Never mind ; indeed it was not the first time 
that their deputy received at his house Baroness 
San Rinazzi and Duchess de Roquemont ! Al- 
ready the mayor, whispering in the ear of Souzac, 
the fat leather merchant, had asked him : 

“ This matter of the insult, do you think it is 
true ? ” 

Souzac, with an air of profound wisdom, de- 
clared : 

“ Between you and I, I do not believe a word of 
it.” 

However, Louis Goulone, the proprietor of the 


278 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

extensive fields which border on the river, said in a 
low tone : 

“ Gentlemen, I have heard it from a person well 
informed.” 

Bressac and Gaetana had understood the reason 
of this embarrassment, which weighed heavily at the 
commencement of the dinner, and little they fought 
against this. Some little words from Roquemont, 
a pleasant speech from Bressac, an amiable remark 
from Gaetana, and then, capping all, the lively 
spirit of the duchess, had partially restored the 
equilibrium of Saint Blaise. 

This Mercoeur, who was he, after all ? A pro- 
vincial ; a country fellow, enriched by the daughter 
of a merchant ! And Saint Blaise found a little 
turn in the conversation which soothed his rage 
against Raoul. Monsieur de Mercoeur was noble 
by birth, but a trader by his wife. Then they got 
to the fine wines. 

“Monsieur le Due, tell us some news of this vin- 
tage.” 

The guests looked at Roquemont with an air, 
signifying: 

“Oh, indeed! You can tell us some news of 
this vintage.” 

The salad, with the little crusts of bread just 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 279 

tipped with garlic, had made its appearance. 
Roquemont pronounced it exquisite. 

They lounged about on their chairs. It was 
charming to dine with a deputy who did not talk 
about politics. 

Then, too, Saint Blaise knew his ground, and three 
words in “patois,” uttered at the right time, or 
perhaps a soothing anodyne speech to the cure, an 
allusion to the lessening of a tax already too heavy 
on the consumers, brought back for the deputy all 
the faith of his electors. Ah ! the honest deputy, 
Saint Blaise ! Decidedly it seemed impossible that 
the Count de Mercoeur had driven him away. 
Falsehoods ! calumnies of the jealous ! They then 
drank tor the success of the harvest, to the health 
of the ladies, to the health of the deputy. The 
toasts thickened the tongues and heads of the 
guests. Toward the end of the dinner, the mayor, 
an old fixture, who had served all the governments, 
said all at once : 

“ I had not remarked your suspension lamp. 
What a fine piece of copper, and well hammered.” 

For the last seventeen years Monsieur the mayor 
had always admired the suspension lamps at the 
houses of the political men who had represented 
his department in the Chamber of Deputies. He 


28 o 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


had the habit at the end of a grand dinner to talk 
of ornamental brass work, and adorable chiseling. 
On that day, the exclamation made Saint Blaise 
really jump : 

“ Hein ! It is not bad ; I do not say it is, but 
you will see later on, when the nickel has been well 
introduced, how it will entirely supersede brass and 
bronze.” 

Almost all the guests said with one voice, “ It is 
true.” 

“ Yes, when the nickel ” — at the end of a dinner 
people rarely finish their sentences. “ The nickel.” 
Saint Blaise was then reconciled to this metal. He 
began again on his hobby, the nickel ; its applica- 
tion to the industrial arts, the mines of the Cauca- 
sus, of New Caledonia, the mines of Montezucca — 
Montezucca ! — the good of the country. Before 
all the advertisements, the bonds, the capitalizing ! 

And he went to find his photographs, and his 
“ black hole ” — “ the roads carved out of the 
mountain.” 

They left the dining-room ; the ladies passed out 
into the salon; the gentlemen into the private room 
of Saint Blaise, which served as a smoking-room. 
The deputy talked all the time, rounding all his 
periods, backed up by Bressac, ringing on his mil- 


THE PRICE OF A CORONE T. 


281 


lions, sounding grandly on his love of his country, 
of his Gascony. Yes ! child of Gascony. Cer- 
tainly it was a superb affair, and reserved for the 
region. Rothschild had tried it on, to get hold of 
it, but he, Saint Blaise, had seized it from Roths- 
child. With his elbows on the mantle-piece, pick- 
ing up, by his old habit, his coat-tails, he declaimed, 
interrupting himself from time to time to relight 
his cigar, which was nearly extinguished. The 
chateau and the Count de Mercoeur were far from 
his thoughts. Wishing that this affair should be 
confined to the region, and not a party matter, we 
shall form a counsel of administration with the 
most honored and loved names of our country. 
The savings of Gascony in the affair will there be 
well invested. 

While he was waiting to relight his cigar, Louis 
Goulone, who, since the commencement of the 
evening, thought only of the information which had 
been given him by a “well informed person,” said 
timidly : 

“ Monsieur de Mercoeur, is he in this affair ?” 

A douche bath on the head of Saint Blaise, who 
fancied he saw the profile of Raoul drawn on the 
embrasure of the portico of the chateau, and that 
in his ears he heard the remark of, “ Gentle- 


282 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


man, noble by birth, but mercantile through his 
wife.” 

All his guests, who were anxious, seemed to ask 
him this : 

“ Yes ; is the Count de Mercoeur in this ?” 

He remained embarrassed for some seconds, 
giving vague explanations, feeling that he was los- 
ing ground by his indecision, looking askance at 
Bressac. Bressac, after a silence, shut the door 
which communicated with the salon, saying with an 
easy natural air : 

“ I think our smoke annoys the ladies.” 

Then he said, “ Sirs, the question of Monsieur 
Goulone has much troubled our dear deputy. 
There is a question of honor connected with it, 
which hinders Monsieur Saint Blaise to explain 
himself clearly.” 

He had glided by Saint Blaise and whispered : 

“Let me do this, and I will save you.” 

These few words uttered by Bressac caused a 
great sensation. 

A question of honor hanging on this. A duel, 
perhaps ! 

The deputy made a dignified gesture. 

“ Sirs,” replied Bressac, “you will please excuse 
Monsieur Roquemont and me, for we have to at- 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET 283 

tend a rendezvous which we have given to the 
friends of Monsieur de Mercoeur.” 

Saint Blaise left the room with them, and accom- 
panied them to the head of the stairs. 

“Ah,” said Saint Blaise. “You are fine, superb, 
you are ; you launch me into a duel.” 

“It is necessary, it is indispensable for your in- 
terests. But compose yourself ; I will carry this 
through.” 

“ Will you also lead me to the combat ? ” 

“ Much better, even, than if I fought the duel ! ” 
Saint Blaise, bewildered, re-entered his room, 
and he succeeded in giving his compatriots a high 
idea of his courage, in taking up again his theory 
of “ nickel,” and its use and applicability to the 
industrial arts. 


XVIII. 


By his abrupt decision to constitute himself a 
second to Saint Blaise, Bressac had joined the party, 
the last play he ever wished to play against Raoul. 
Meantime, he felt himself so sure of conquering 
that he did not feel any anger against his old 
friend or against the Countess of.Mercoeur. He 
understood in what measure he had been foolish, 
at his age, in letting himself be touched with a 
fleeting love fancy. 

Was it possible that such a player as he could 
permit a passion of any kind to take possession of 
his mind ? And on the road to the chateau he 
muttered : “ My only revenge, my only one, the 

one to be desired, is to take from them their mil- 
lion. Before eight days are over I shall have 
ruined them ! ” 

Roquemont, in following Bressac, had submitted 
to the ascendency which the adventurer exercised 
over nearly all his comrades. 

There had been between him and Bressac the 
same reason for intimacy as between Bressac and 
284 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 285 

Raoul, only Roquemont paid his commission duly 
by little and little, and without any shame, and 
placed himself among the habitues of the salon of 
the Baroness San Rinazzi. 

Whenever Bressac and Gaetana talked of the 
duke, it was to say : 

‘‘What is the good of pressing him ? He serves 
us as well as a lighted chandelier.” 

Still the duke was uneasy in seeing himself led 
to the chateau by Bressac. After a long silence 
he said : 

“ Ah, hah ! Are we really going to Raoul’s 
place ? ” 

Bressac replied with a grand, dignified manner : 

“ You wish to laugh ! Do I ever joke on such 
matters as these ? ” 

“ No, no ; but this duel seems to me absurd.” 

“Absurd, idiotic; I agree with you; but as it 
has come about without our being able to help it, 
it is better for us to accustom ourselves to con- 
sider it necessary.” 

“ Necessary ' to Saint Blaise, perhaps, but for 
you, — how ? ” 

“To me, to us, as much as to Saint Blaise.” 

“ You think it is necessary that we should 
quarrel with Raoul ? ” 


286 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


“It is a thing already done, but all this will 
change positions. Let me only conduct the 
events. We absolutely want Raoul for this affair 
of Montezucca ; he will make one of the party of 
us, bon gri mal gre, willingly or unwillingly.” 

“ If you can manage him, Bressac.” 

How he trembled when Roquemont asked him : 

“ Are you certain that he will receive you ? He 
has already sent you away to-day, perhaps more 
violently than Saint Blaise.” 

“ I go in the name of my friend Saint Blaise. I 
go to demand an apology ; he is bound to receive 
me.” 

“ That is true ; but I fear that the interview will 
not be a courteous one.” 

“ Why not ? Raoul is a gallant, polite gentle- 
man ! And apropos of this subject, you were with 
him when he gave way to his passion ; did he say 
anything about us when we took our leave ? ” 

“ Nothing at all. He did the honors of his 
salon with the countess, to the great astonishment 
of his guests, who were ready to go off in a swoon. 
I think there is even a dinner taking place at the 
chateau to-night, and we shall be the disturbers of 
the fete.” 

“ So much the better,” said Bressac angrily. 


THE PRICE OP A CORONET. 287 

Bressac was delighted with this idea. A little 
theatrical scene ; nothing is so good to lessen the 
courage of a man of undecided temperament. 

Walking up the avenue, they distinguished 
through the large, open portals, that the salon was 
lighted up very much, decorated with flowers, and 
a numerous company was seated at the table. 

Raoul had kept the greater number of his friends 
to dinner. Among them, Lestious, the Yidame, 
the cousins, and the Marquis and Marquise de 
Nuylaurens. 

He thought that the moment for a final explana- 
tion with Jeanne had come. He wished to delay 
it, to delay the explanation until night, hoping that 
in the evening he would receive a word from 
Bressac, appointing a definite rendezvous to liqui- 
date their affair. 

Jeanne had several times approached Raoul, 
fixing her eyes straight on his, as if imploring of 
him a word ; but he always remained cold, sad, 
estranged. He knew his life was finished. Why 
mingle their feelings again ? Aunt Economy 
had alone spoken to Raoul about the incident of 
the afternoon. 

“ Very good, very good, Mercoeur. You treated 
that low set as they deserved. That Bressac — 


288 


THE PRICE OP A COROjVE T. 


Saint Blaise — then, that woman. Pah ! Ah ! 
Saint Blaise.” 

Raoul did not take in easily the notion that 
Saint Blaise was a rascal. No, only a weak man, 
led on ; only a plaything in Bressac’s hands as he 
himself had been. And he could not help laugh- 
ing that the force of his anger had fallen most 
heavily on the deputy. It was now that he felt that 
he had his three hundred thousand francs — he was 
awake, alive again. He felt he wanted to crush 
this low set in whose clutches he had fallen, where 
even the highest nobility, alas ! had also fallen. 
Saint Blaise was in their midst as well, so much 
the worse for him. 

The commotion of the afternoon had gradually 
subsided ; the dinner had been almost gay. Aunt 
de Lansac quite forgetting Saint Blaise and the 
Bressacs, revived the guests with her natural liveli- 
ness. She had just said to Jeanne : 

“ Go, my little one, to the piano ; play us an old 
air ; the music of the present day fatigues me.” 

Jeanne played leisurely a romance of Schubert. 
The Vidame declared it reminded him of his hap- 
piest days. 

Suddenly Joseph came and spoke in a low voice 
to Raoul : 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 289 

“Sir, Monsieur de Roquemont and Monsieur 
Bressac wish to speak to you.” 

11 Hein, ha ! ” 

“ I told them that Monsieur could not receive 
them ; but they come on the part of the deputy 
Saint Blaise.” 

Raoul laughed. Had they come to demand an 
apology ? He went out, and found the seconds of 
the deputy in the vestibule. He said to Bressac : 

“ Unless you have come in the name of a man 
whom I have insulted to-day, I will not receive 
you.” 

Bressac looked at Raoul, and said with his 
malicious smile : 

“ This is perhaps the only reason why I have 
come, to conciliate honor and act as second to 
Saint Blaise.” 

Raoul never replied to him, but turning toward 
Roquemont, he said : 

“ What ! are you here too ? ” 

“ My dear friend,” answered Roquemont, “ you 
will believe that I have come in a spirit of con- 
ciliation ; that is why I am here. I have a real 
desire to arrange ” 

Raoul brusquely interrupted him : 

“ Roquemont, arrange an affair in which they 


290 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

seek an apology from a Count de Mercoeur ? Do 
you know that these words on your part seem 
almost an insult ? ” 

“ My dear Raoul, I cannot tell what your temper 
is to-day. You really are intractable ! impos- 
sible ! ” 

“ I have always had the same character, and I 
never permit any one to laugh at me about it. For 
the beginning and end of this, all explanations are 
unnecessary. I have only to introduce you to my 
seconds.” 

He called Joseph, and said to him : 

“ Beg Monsieur Lestious and the ‘Vidame de 
Lontras to join me here.” 

When his two friends were there, he most seri- 
ously presented them, and retired, saying : 

“ I entirely recognize that Monsieur Saint Blaise 
has the right to be offended. You will accept, 
then, the conditions of these gentlemen. Joseph, 
give these gentlemen requisite writing material.” 

He returned to the salon, and with difficulty 
restrained his desire to laugh ; he pitied heartily 
the deputy. 

The last words of Raoul took away from his 
seconds the right of discussion ; they accepted and 
reflected well the orders dictated by Bressac. The 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 291 

conditions were simple and easy — a fencing sword, 
first blood, and usu^l glove at pleasure. 

“ There is in all this matter,” said Bressac, “ only 
a misunderstanding, an inadvertence ; and we hope 
no misfortune ” 

He had not time to finish the sentence, for 
Lestious and the Vidame, now that their mission 
was ended, bowed, and Joseph said : 

“ Come this way, gentlemen.” 

In going to Livone, Roquemont was moved by 
anger, and said : 

“We were very ill received, my dear • Bressac. 
We too could feel offended.” 

“ All this will change to-morrow, after the 
duel,” said Bressac. “ I have forced Mercoeur to 
receive me to-day. I will force him to receive me 
again to-morrow.” 

Roquemont suddenly burst out laughing. 

“ What ails you ? ” said Bressac. 

“ I am thinking of that poor Saint Blaise ; Saint 
Blaise, whom you have led on to a duel, much 
against his wishes. Poor devil ! ” 

“Say rather, happy man! I benefit him with 
a duel, which will be without danger, and will be 
followed by a reconciliation, and it will give Saint 
Blaise the reputation of courage, to which he has 


292 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


yet never aspired. His re-election will be certain, 
his capitalizing of the mines *)f Montezucca will 
rise in one day : and you pity Saint Blaise ? ” 

Their return to the private room of the deputy 
had the indication of a triumph. Since their 
departure there were nothing but whisperings, re- 
citals of heroic deeds and adroit allusions, which 
were interrupted as soon as Madame Saint Blaise 
could hear them. 

The Livonaise were charmed to feel that there 
was so much courage in the person of their repre- 
sentative.' Saint Blaise had resigned himself to 
this duel in consoling himself with the idea that 
Raoul de Mercoeur could not have any particular 
feeling of hatred toward him. 

It was simply an incident to be supported with 
dignity. Bressac, as soon as he entered the room, 
drew the deputy to a recess of the window. 

“ Well, now," said Saint Blaise. 

“ It is all arranged.” 

“ Ah ! ah ! ” As all eyes were turned toward 
him, he drew himself up, put his right hand into 
the breast of his coat, and with the other began 
to drum on a window. 

“ It is fixed for to-morrow,” said Bressac. 

“ Where ? ” 


the price of a CORONET 293 

“ In the field by the river-bank, behind the mill ; 
there are large trees to shelter you and will permit 
one to be hidden, hidden from sight. We have 
chosen the sword, which for calm, quiet people is 
always the safest, less dangerous. You know how 
to use the sword ? ” 

“ Yes, as a matter of hygiene. I have taken 
lessons in fencing.” 

“ That will do. On the ground you have only 
to keep yourself straight, without agitating your- 
self, without lunging the sword. Monsieur de 
Mercoeur has no wish to kill you, nor you him, I 
suppose ! ” 

“ Very well.” 

Then Saint Blaise returned to his guests, trilling, 
rather warbling, an air from “ La Dame Blanche.” 

Toward midnight they retired. 

The Livonaise who were still crossing the square 
could see the lights in the study of Saint Blaise. 

“ Our deputy is making his last deed and testa- 
ment,” affirmed the mayor. 

Just then Raoul crossed the square, with 
Mademoiselle de Lansac on his arm. The Livo- 
naise had a great feeling of emotion at the idea 
that only a few yards separated two men, who, on 
the morrow would cut one another’s throats. 


294 THE PRICE OR A CORONET. 

“ Tell me,” asked Aunt de Lansac, “ all these 
goings, these comings, this evening while Jeanne 
was singing. It was about a duel, was it not ? ” 

“ Yes, aunt.’' 

“ And with whom ? not Bressac, I imagine ? ” 

“ No, indeed ; with Saint Blaise ! ” 

“ Poor man ! ” 

“ Ah ! I shall not harm him. But if chance 
goes against me, you will charge yourself to ter- 
minate my affair with Bressac.” 

“ That I promise to do.” 

“ Good-by, my aunt. Sleep tranquilly ; I have 
no bad presentiment. Jeanne heard nothing? ” 

“ No, nothing ; she said nothing to me.” 

“ That’s right, then.” 

When he returned to the chateau he found 
Jeanne still in the salon. The young wife waited 
for an explanation. She tried to provoke it. 

“ Monsieur de Mercoeur,” said Jeanne, “ I have 
been uneasy all the day ; this scene, this insult, 
what does this all mean ? ” 

Raoul had also thought that the clearing up of 
their false situation would take place on this 
night ; but as he was going to fight on the 
morrow it was better to delay for a day the 
explanation. 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 295 

He simply contented himself by answering his 
wife : 

“ We will talk of this to-morrow, Madame ; you 
must be very fatigued to-night ; it would be much 
better if you retire, it is too late for explanations.” 

He said this very naturally, and offered his hand 
to Jeanne to lead her to her own room. Then on 
the threshold of the door, she hesitated, remaining 
for some seconds nervous and impatient. 

She thought he would say, “ Do you forgive 
me ? ” She would only have asked for one word, 
one movement, to cry out in her turn : 

“ Let us forget all that has separated us.” 

But no ; Raoul simply went and kissed his child 
on the forehead ; and he went out of the room, as 
he did every night, muttering : 

“To-morrow, then ! ” 

Jeanne could not sleep. She had imagined that 
Raoul was going to fight, but would explain noth- 
ing to her, but only after he had fought for her. 

Toward morning she heard a slight noise, the 
gravel crunching in the courtyard beneath her 
room. She looked. It was Raoul, leaving. 
Joseph followed him, carrying a long, thin pack- 
age. 

“ Swords ! I am sure,” thought she. 


296 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

Just then her heart began to beat violently. It 
was for her sake that they were going to fight ; he, 
Raoul, had said loudly enough when he called 
out : 

“ Those people there have the audacity to pre- 
sent themselves in your home, Madame ! I am 
going to drive them away ! ” 

“ Like all women, she only thought of running 
to stop them, to say : 

“ No, no ! I will not have you fight.” It was 
but a thought ; she collected herself, and on her 
knees, in the middle of the room, she prayed, 
hoping for news. 

When Raoul arrived on the ground, a peasant 
advanced toward him : 

“ You are the Count de Mercoeur ? ” 

“ Yes, I am.” 

The peasant led him a little distance from Les- 
tious and the Vidame, and gave him a letter. 
“ From Monsieur Bressac.” 

Raoul glanced over the letter Bressac wrote, 
while sheltering under a tree. Bressac and Saint 
Blaise watched him. 

“ If you seriously wound Saint Blaise , the ‘ Moni- 
teur de Livone ’ will publish at the same time , as the 
legal procedure of the duel , that which you know of. 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 297 

It will be better for your own interests for you to be 
wounded. You can easily manage the swords. It 
??iust be fi?iished thus. I shall come soon to the 
chateau.” 

The letter bore no signature. Bressac’s hand- 
writing even was disguised. The rascal did not 
care to leave any proof of his tricks. 

Raoul only muttered : 

“ Ah ; the rogue ! the bandit ! Decidedly, Saint 
Blaise would render me a real favor if he did hurt 
me just a little.” 

All passed off correctly and well. It was a play 
duel, a modern time duel, caused by an incident, 
without passion or hatred. 

The morning was charming ; a soft, southern 
wind played among the trees, and gently rippled 
over the River Baise. 

The two adversaries faced each other, and for 
several seconds nothing was heard but the clashing 
of the steel and the noise of a little cascade falling 
down from the mill. The carriage and deportment 
of Saint Blaise was most correct. He had taken 
up a melodramatic pose, and did not stir. Raoul, 
disheartened, humiliated to see himself on the 
ground to give there the appearance only of a duel, 
held his weapon loosely. 


298 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

Suddenly Bressac said : 

“ Stop, gentlemen.” 

Raoul had been scratched ; in making a pass 
with the sword on a line above the shoulder of his 
adversary, the sword of Saint Blaise had pierced 
his arm. 

The deputy turned pale. Bressac and Roque- 
mont had to support him. He groaned : 

" No, no ; do not you see I shall never con- 
sole myself with having caused such a misfor- 
tune.” 

The seconds exchanged glances of contempt. 
At once Roquemont, advancing to the other parties, 
said : 

“ Sirs, we place ourselves at your disposal ; can 
we be useful. to you ? ” 

“ I thank you, sirs,” coolly answered Raoul. 

Then Saint Blaise, thinking it would seem fine 
and generous on his part to be reconciled on the 
ground with his adversary, spontaneously offered 
his hand to Raoul. 

“ Believe me truly, Monsieur le Comte, I am dis- 
tracted at ” 

Raoul pitied the poor man, who was, like him- 
self, the victim of a rogue, and he accepted his 
hand. The Vidame and Lestious had assisted the 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 299 

doctor in bandaging Raoul’s arm. When it was 
finished, the doctor said : 

“ It will be nothing, Monsieur le Comte ; you 
will only suffer from a little fever. Above all, do 
not go out.” 

They wished to go and procure a carriage. 
Raoul opposed this idea. He wished to make haste 
and return to the chateau, where they had no 
doubt remarked his absence. “ Return to the cha- 
teau ! To find himself face to face with Jeanne ! 
Yesterday he had shown himself brave, courageous, 
to-day he felt anew that he was weak and timid — 
nervous.” 

This letter of Bressac’s had sufficed to weaken all 
his energies. What new machinations had Bressac 
prepared ? What proposition had he to make to 
him. He was, however, determined not to draw 
back at all. The affair for him was cowardly as it 
was. He felt an absolute disgust of himself. 
This fault, the only one he had committed — 
ought this fault always to weigh on him through 
life? 

The peasants in going toward the market saluted 
him with : 

“ Good-morning, Monsieur de Mercoeur, and 
your company.” 


300 the price of a coronet . 

He imagined mentally that among all this crowd 
who bowed to him as the descendant of an old 
race, the representatives of several ages of bravery 
and loyalty, he thought that perhaps there was not 
one among them all who was not a better man 
than he. 


XIX. 


This news of a duel had revolutionized Livone 
since the morning. When Saint Blaise arrived at 
the entrance of the street which rises toward the 
bridge, he found the greater portion of the inhabi- 
tants at their doors, and two gendarmes , police- 
men, who were leisurely looking for their portfolios 
to put under their arms. 

Raoul had taken the round turn built on the moat 
of the town. Sad and solemn, he got to the 
chateau on foot, leaning on the arms of the Vidame 
and Lestious. Saint Blaise felt he had the delight 
of having performed a duty at the risk of incur- 
ring a great danger, and his countenance bore the 
calm, serene look of a hero. At the corner of the 
square he encoutered Madame Saint Blaise, with a 
calico skirt, disordered hair, and camisole bodice, 
quite overcome : 

“ My poor husband, my poor husband ! ” 

As the square was already filled with the stalls 
belonging to the market, with the country folks 
who frequent fairs, a little crowd formed round the 
301 


3° 2 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


deputy. All hands were held out to him ; the ser- 
geants of police were the first to congratulate him ; 
and now, even, it was Gagnet, the secretary of the 
mayor’s office, who congratulated him before repair- 
ing to his office work, Souzac, who had given up 
for a time his newspaper, and the mayor, who had 
left two important visitors in his office. 

“ Ah ! Our deputy ; our deputy ! ” 

Madame Saint Blaise pressed his arms, and re- 
peated the only words which occurred to her in 
her excitement : 

“ My poor husband ! ” 

He then entered his house, followed by his prin- 
cipal friends, feeling his increased popularity, with 
three more years of his seat on the bench. The 
mayor, Souzac, and Goulone uttered these enthu- 
siastic sentences : 

“ Your grand conduct, Monsieur Deputy ! ” 

“ Your energy, Monsieur Deputy ! ” 

“ The manner in which you have revenged an 
insult.” 

Saint Blaise drew up, and showed a little ges- 
ture of humility. 

“ He had only done his duty, as any other Livo- 
naise would have done in his place.” 

“ No, no ! Monsieur,” said Goulone ; “ I know 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 3°3 

of your behavior on the ground. I know of your 
courage. Ah ! I know. Besides, gentlemen, 
I have heard it all from a person ‘ well in- 
formed.’ ” 

But little by little Saint Blaise woke up from his 
world of visions — sword thrusts, feints, and pas- 
sage of arms— where his friends had elevated him, 
to come down to real life. 

Bressac, gliding beside him, said in an under- 
tone : 

“ It is just the time to urge on the nickel ! ” 

An audience already prepared ; the principal 
Livonaise assembled, the daughters of Monsieur 
the deputy, Gaetana, who had come down, 
powdered, got up, and set off in true Parisian 
style. 

Saint Blaise perceived behind him the photo- 
graphs of Montezucca, the black hole. “ It is 
there ! ” He had placed his finger on the black 
hole, and gone off to Spain, the nickel, its use and 
its application to the industrial arts, the interest of 
this region of the country. 

Roquemont whispered in Bressac’s ear : 

“ You were right, this affair has done him ser- 
vice. Long live the nickel ! It now only requires 
the committee of administration.” 


304 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

“ That will be done to-night.” 

“You, then, firmly believe in this poor Raoul? 
Come ! did you not see him this morning?” 

“ Raoul did not attempt to defend himself, and 
allowed himself to be wounded on the sword of 
Saint Blaise. Ah ! well now, I shall have his sig- 
nature with the same ease.” 

Aunt de Lansac had prevented Jeanne from 
leaving the chateau. Both of them waited in the 
grand salon, frightfully anxious. 

“ You love him, Raoul — then, little one ? ” 

“ Yes, and my aunt ; I have only him, you, and 
my child.” 

It was a little finished coquetry on the part of 
Aunt de Lansac to make her unceasingly repeat 
the three names of those beings who loved the 
young wife. The profile of Raoul had at last ap- 
peared on the threshold of the door. He had sud- 
denly left his friends to run off, and these gentle- 
men discreetly waited. 

“ Raoul ! My Raoul ! ” 

“ My Jeanne ! My Jeanne ! ” 

“ You are wounded ?” 

“ Ah ! It is nothing, only a simple scratch.” 

Face to face, forgetting the world and all else, 
they found again one of those delightful moments 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 305 

of happiness which seemed to have fled from them 
forever. 

“ Oh, well ! Nobody embraces me ! ” 

It was Aunt de Lansac who said this, with her 
usual off-hand manner. 

“ You wicked, ungrateful things ! ” 

“ Aunt, dear aunt, do forgive us.” 

“ Ungrateful creatures, not even a caress for the 
old aunt,” she said, with a little tone of anger, in 
agitation, because the tears were in her eyes, and 
she did not wish them to be seen. 

And then, when Raoul had left them, to say a 
word and kiss his child, Jeanne, leaning forward 
to the dowager, said : 

“ Ah ! I am so happy, my aunt. . I have just 
found again my own Raoul ! ” 

The happiness of this young lady, which appeared 
in her movements, in her glistening eyes, recalled 
to Mademoiselle de Lansac the terrible cause of 
the rupture which existed between Raoul and 
Jeanne. With the good sense of age, she wished 
to profit by this emotion, by this reconcilement, so 
natural too, which seemed made to blot out all the 
past. 

“ See, my children, I will leave you ; I leave you 
to enjoy a tete-a-tete like two lovers.” Then turn- 


3°6 THE price oe a coronet. 

ing to Raoul, speaking low, she asked : “ Is it all 
finished with this Bressac? ” 

“ No, but I expect him to-day.” 

“Here?” 

“ It must be so.” 

“When does he come?” 

“ Very soon.” 

“ Do you wish that I should stop with Jeanne or 
take her with me ?” 

“ No, my aunt, I prefer being alone here with 
her.” 

“ I shall return to lunch. Good-by till then, my 
children.” 

As she went out she met Lestious and the 
Vidame, who at length decided to enter the 
chateau. They exchanged hand-shakes with Raoul 
and his wife. Jeanne thanked them warmly, and 
soon the two lovers, as they were called by Made- 
moiselle de Lansac, were alone. 

They had scarcely the time to gain their rooms, 
when Joseph came to announce the Combat, Lan- 
sac, and Marquis de Nuylaurens, who wished to 
see the wounded man. 

“ I shall receive no one, Joseph,” said Raoul. 
“ You understand me well ; I shall see no one ex- 
cept Monsieur Bressac. Thank these gentlemen.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 307 

As soon as Joseph had retired, Jeanne whis- 
pered : 

“ Bressac ! ” 

Then there was a dead silence. The first burst 
of tenderness over, Jeanne hoped that their old 
happy life would recommence, and she was woke 
up with the name of this rogue between them. 

“Bressac! You are again going to receive 
Bressac ? ” 

Yes, Jeanne, for the last time. When I have 
seen him I will tell you why I have trembled 
before that man. I will tell you of the infamous 
act I committed, for I have had enough of wres- 
tling and lying. To lie to you, Jeanne, to you, 
whom I am not worthy to love.” 

“Be quiet, Raoul, be silent now. You frighten 
me. What more ? As you have just fought about 
me, and I have you here, wounded.” 

“ Wounded ! Wounded ! ” And Raoul contin- 
ued with an agonized expression : “ Jeanne, I am 

expecting this wretch. I can blot out to-day the 
fault I have committed before. When this is all 
finished you will know about my conduct. You 
only have the right to judge me ; before you, only, 
will I accuse myself ; but I have not the right to 
deceive you any longer.” 


308 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

Jeanne replied leisurely : 

“ Raoul, why do you talk so ? Why exaggerate 
a fault, which your sufferings, your noble conduct, 
have long ago wiped -out ? Listen to me! You 
have no mother now ; I have the right to love you 
as your mother would have done, to be indulgent 
as she would have been. I have the right to par- 
don you, since you wish to accuse yourself.” 

“ Forgive me, Jeanne, you cannot when you 
know.” 

Some one rapped at the door ; it was Joseph, 
who came to warn Raoul that Bressac waited in 
the salon. 

Jeanne said again : “ Give me your hand, 

Raoul de Mercoeur, and whatever you say or do, 
remember that thy Jeanne approves of it. Come 
back to me soon, Raoul.” 

She threw herself on her knees, as she had done 
in the morning, understanding all that would pass, 
something as terrible as the duel by the riverside. 

Bressac, buttoned up in his frock coat, looking 
pale, was standing watching the door by which 
Raoul was to enter. 

“ Joseph,” said Raoul, “ place yourself before the 
door, and let no one enter but you, you only.” 

Then he pointed to a chair to Bressac on the 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 309 

other side of the table in the middle of the room, 
and sat down himself. 

“ Let me see, what do you want?” said Raoul. 

“ My dear friend,” said Bressac, “ you wish to 
surround your door, we can talk at our ease. Per- 
mit me to tell you that you seem to have forgotten 
to lead up to the affair which brings me here. It is 
now more than two years ago since you were 
ruined, crushed.” 

“ Pardon me,” said Raoul, “it is useless to enter 
into all those details ; you have already told 
me all that night you invited yourself to my 
table.” 

“ A little against your wish.” 

“ Absolutely against my wish. All these pre- 
ambles are useless. The situation is simple. To 
you, or to Gaetana, that matters little, I gave a letter 
which is worth three hundred thousand francs. 
These three hundred thousand francs are here, 
payable on the bank, with the signature of the 
Banker Lestious. Give me that letter.” 

Bressac replied quietly : “ You run, you go fast, 
you speak, you insult people, you cause duels. Be 
a little more calm, dear friend. It is necessary 
also on account of your wound. The situation of 
this affair which we have undertaken is more com- 


310 the price of a coronet. 

plicated than you know of. Do you wish or not 
that I explain it to you ? ” 

Raoul decided to finish all this. Already he 
was wearied, disheartened, at his weakness. 

“ I listen to you, go on quickly.” 

Bressac put his two elbows on the table, and ges- 
ticulating with his two arms, began what he called 
the explanation of the affair with as much calmness 
and clearness as Saint Blaise when he talked of his 
mines of nickel. 

“ I take up the matter at the point where we left 
off. You have signed a letter which you gave up 
to me, which gave me the right of command to say 
to you, * I will.’ And this letter I have on me. 
Do not try to take it from me. I have also a 
revolver in my pocket. Besides, .you are wounded, 
your arm pains you. It is fortunate that I can 
approach you without seeing you foaming with 
rage, and calling out to your servants, ‘ Drive 
away those people there ! ’ These people there — 
the Baroness San Rinazzi and the sympathetic 
Bressac ! You play the scornful well ; but to-day, 
when we saw that you could not pay those 
three hundred thousand francs by yourself, we 
sought a means of touching them without you, 
but through you. This is what I thought to 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 31 1 

propose to you yesterday when I came with Saint 
Blaise.” 

Raoul made an angry gesture ; but Bressac con- 
tinued quietly, without disturbing himself : 

“ Patience, Raoul. Now, we have got to the 
facts. Do you know or not about the nickel ? ” 

“ Yes, Montezucca, the yellow placard. Leave 
that, go on.” 

“ These mines in the hands of the deputy Saint 
Blaise, who wishes to launch them, and publish the 
prospectus in the south, require him to have a 
committee of administration to dazzle these south- 
erners. Roquemont and Marsies have already 
joined the party, it now only wants the Count de 
Mercoeur. Promise, by writing this, to join the 
committee of administration, and I will return you 
your letter. This is what I came to tell you yester- 
day, and to-day I can make you the same proposals, 
but am obliged to add some new conditions.” 

“ And these conditions ? ” 

“ These conditions are, that Saint Blaise, by a 
perfect act of politeness, comes to inquire about 
your health, that you will receive him, and that 
next Sunday the Baroness Gaetana de San Rinazzi 
will come to return the visit that the Countess Mer- 
coeur will have made her during the week.” 


312 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


“ If I do not accept these conditions or these 
financial proposals ? ” 

“ The town of Livone, then the department of 
Saint Blaise, the south, and soon Paris, will learn 
in what manner Mademoiselle Jeanne Berthout be- 
came Countess of Mercoeur.” 

“ Do you know this is blackmail ? ” 

“ Do you think that this talk is a foolish boast, 
Raoul ? Why these fine words ? Why reproach 
others for what you yourself have done ? ” 

“ Blackmail is a base act, is it not ? ” 

“ To sell your name is rather more base, more 
hypocritical, more low and vile. We value our- 
selves. Besides, I cannot understand your scruples. 
You will gain, by what I propose, three hundred 
thousand francs.” 

“ And you, how much do you gain ? ” 

“ I am frank with you, I gain a million. I play 
my cards openly on the table.” 

“ Cards marked or not. Hein ? ” 

Bressac trembled for a moment, then he replied, 
with a certain boldness : 

“ What do you mean to say ? ” 

“I do now know your life as well as my own to-day.” 
“ It may be so, but you have no proofs ; I have 
some.” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 313 

However, the calm of Raoul frightened Bressac. 

“ For the last time, do you accept, yes or no, the 
terms I propose.” 

“No, no!” said Raoul shortly. “Monsieur 
Saint Blaise will remain at his house, the Baroness 
San Rinazzi will leave Livone as soon as possible ; 
it is what^he had better do. About those mines, 
an affair in which you are mixed up — you, a rascal, 
directed by Saint Blaise, a political shuttlecock 
who works them up when he wants an unknown 
sum of money, prepared by Van Dernicht, a 
sharper who tried to ruin me : this can only be a 
financial fraud. And I prefer killing myself to 
joining that party.” 

“Well, remember that your refusal causes me to 
lose a million. Will you make that sum good to 
me ? ” 

“ Perhaps ! Wait now, here.” 

Raoul got up with difficulty, caused by his 
wound, which was beginning to make him feel 
heavy. He rang for Joseph, leaned on him, left 
the salon, and mounted the stairs. Jeanne was on 
her knees, praying, when her husband entered 
there. 

“ Ah ! Now, Raoul,” muttered she. 

Raoul took Jeanne’s hand and raised her. 


3 14 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

“ Madame de Mercoeur,” said he, “ you know 
that I have committed an infamous action; that I 
dishonor you as well as myself, and also our son. 
You only, as well as my Aunt de Lansac, to whom 
I have owned all, only know of this. To-day the 
wretch, who has broken up our happiness, is ready 
to render the matter public. He holds in his 
hands the proofs of my dishonor, to take them from 
him I require three hundred thousand francs.” 

Jeanne interrupted him : 

“ Monsieur, my fortune is yours ; you have the 
right to dispose of it.” 

“ Alas ! alas ! Madame, this is only the half 
of what I have to tell you. To collect these three 
hundred thousand francs without owning my fault 
to you, I asked my Aunt de Lansac to lend them. 
My aunt had only two hundred thousand francs, 
the Banker Lestious has loaned me the rest. I 
hoped, then, in exchange for this sum, to get back 
my letter, a letter written by me.” 

“ And you have not been able to get it ? ” 

“ No. What they exact of me is no longer 
money. Our three hundred thousand francs they 
do not care for. In exchange for my letter they 
demand of me that I shall lend my name to a sort 
of fraudulent scheme, these mines of Montezucca, 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 315 

which you heard spoken of in these last few 
days.” 

“ And you have refused, Raoul ? ” 

“ Yes, Jeanne.” 

She threw herself suddenly on his neck : 

“ My Raoul, so good ! So honest ! Yes, you 
are indeed all that I have ever believed you to be. 
And they have come to propose to you to efface 
all, at the price of a new infamy which engages you 
to nothing, and from which you can free yourself 
in a few days. Ah, how happy I am now ! How 
much I thank you for refusing them.” 

“ I have refused, Jeanne, because I love you.” 

Jeanne drew herself a little away from him, and 
putting her hands on his shoulders, said, looking 
him well in the face : 

“ No, Raoul, you refused because you are a re- 
generated man ; you refused because you are an 
honest man.” 

Then she stopped, and sobbed out directly : 

“ But, this man is still there. He wants 
money, does he not ? Since these three hundred 
thousand do not content him, he wants double that 
sum, perhaps.” 

“ Madame, they demand a million. Your whole 
fortune, the fortune of your child.” 


3 1 6 THE price of a coronet. 

Jeanne simply said : “ If my child were a man, 
he would advise me to give it all to you.” She 
then ran to her safe, and taking out a roll of 
securities, she exclaimed : “ Here now, Raoul, 

take them all. They are as much yours as mine. 
Blot out all this.” 

“ Thank you, Jeanne ; thank you ! ” 

He took the bundle which Jeanne tendered him, 
and descended into the salon. 

Bressac was seized with great trembling and 
shaking when he saw Joseph enter the room with 
his master. The servant never ceased to look at 
him, in waiting, as if he expected an order. 

“ You have asked of me a million ! ” said Raoul. 
“ I could pay it to you, as the Countess of Mer- 
coeur has just authorized me ; but as for me, I 
refuse ! ” 

Bressac gave a little nervous laugh. 

“ Ah, then, you refuse. You prefer the scan- 
dal?” 

“ Listen to me,” said Raoul. “ I owed you three 
hundred thousand francs for about a year. When 
a nobleman repays what he owes to sharpers of your 
kind, he joins on the interest to the last two ; this 
is what I am going to do. You return me my 
letter, I will give you the six hundred thousand 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 317 

francs, and we shall be quits. You will not draw 
from me a cent more.” 

Bressac heaved a long sigh, he devoured with 
his eyes the bundle of deeds. It was a fortune, 
this fortune so ardently desired. He blurted out : 
“ I accept.” 

Then, with very great deliberation, he opened 
his frock coat to take out his portfolio. At this 
moment the butt end of his revolver appeared. 
Quickly, Joseph threw himself on the wretched 
creature and took his revolver from him. Raoul 
quietly said : 

“ Such toys are always dangerous in the hands 
of rogues of your stamp.” 

Bressac burst out in anger, crying : 

“ You wish, then, to assassinate me ?” 

Raoul could not help laughing at the cowardice 
of the rascal. 

“ No, no ! But for a long time you have been 
master; now it is my turn. Only, as I am 
wounded, and you are not, the terms are not equal. 
Give me my letter.” 

- “ Who assures me that in paying me you are not 
going to cheat me ? ” 

Raoul snatched the letter. 

“ Miserable wretch ! ” said Raoul. He took the 


3 1 8 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

letter, read it, folded it up and put it into his 
right hand, then with his left hand he pushed the 
deeds into the middle of the table. 

“ Count them over now ; here are first the three 
hundred thousand francs, then bonds of the Suez 
Canal, and the balance in Government bonds.” 

While Raoul was preparing the money, choosing 
those which were of value to the bearer, Joseph 
had shut all the doors. Bressac was calculating ; 
he had all the quotations and fluctuations of the 
Exchange in his head. 

“ This now is right and well ; now we are 
quits.” 

He got up to leave, and extended his hands to- 
ward the bonds : 

“ Pardon,” said Raoul, in placing his left hand 
on the papers ; “ and you, who have stolen from 
me three hundred thousand francs. It is rob- 
bery, which justice can overtake and punish, but 
for which I am going to punish you. You are 
alone, unarmed ; at one word of mine, Joseph will 
blow out your brains ! ” 

“ Then this servant remains here ? ” 

“ This servant is my foster brother ; he fought 
beside me in the war of 1870 ; he is of my 
family.” 


THE PRICE OE A COROtfET. 3*9 

Joseph exclaimed in patois : 

“ Ah ! rogue, bandit that you are, go along 
with you ! ” 

Bressac scarcely breathed from fright. 

“ My God ! I do not want to kill you,” replied 
Raoul, “ but for several months you have acted to- 
ward me like a bandit, a thief. If I had not 
learned that you stole at play, now that I have 
paid, I should have provoked, and fought you ; 
but as you are a thief and a coward, I will not soil 
myself to kill you. I wish only to shake you off. 
You have played Mephisto with me. Now, it is 
my turn. You have there a pen and some paper. 
Write ! To-day I am certain that you are guilty 
of what you are accused. Write the following, 
and at my dictation, and don’t disguise your hand- 
writing : 

“ l I acknowledge that I am guilty of a robbery of 
eight thousand francs , committed twelve years ago t 
from Monsieur Lousseteau , Notary at Livone.' 

“ Good ; now go on to other things : 

“ l I acknowledge that I have used marked cards , 
the day on which I gained eight hundred francs at 
ecarte\ from the General Moustil, at the Count de 
Mercoeurs house l ” 

“ I swear to you on that day, ” said Bressac. 


3 2 ° 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET . 


“ It matters little whether it was that day or any 
other day : 

“ 1 Thus it was in all the salons ivhere I have 
played .* 

* “ Good ! Now, I will do as I please with these 
lines ; they are at my disposal. Pass on to your 
worthy associate. What and who is that Baronne 
San Rinazzi ? ” 

“The wife of the Baron de ” 

“ Do not lie. She is a female sharper, an 
adventuress. Speak, now ! ” 

“ I swear to you that she is really the widow of 
the baron ; it is only since his death that she has 
so fallen.” 

“ Where did you know her ? ” 

“At Paris.” 

“ Before she came to Paris, where was she ? ” 

“ In Italy.” 

“ What did she do there ? ” 

“ She had a gaming house.” 

“ Where ? ” 

“ Near Naples.” 

“Write that.” 

“ l I affirm that the woman who hears the name of 
Baroness San Rinazzi had a gambling house near 
Naples."' 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


321 


“ What year ? ” 

“In 1872, in a little village.” 

“ Which ? ” 

“ San Remo, near Naples.” 

“ Sign this now, and date it also, Chateau de 
Mercoeur, 29th July, 1882. Add this postscript : 

“ 1 It is for this reason that the Count de Mercoeur 
drove vie away from his chateau yesterday, Sunday ' 

“Give me this writing.” 

Raoul read again attentively what Bressac had 
written ; then he went on : 

“ We have the air of playing a drama. So much 
the worse. It is your kind of scoundrels who fur- 
nish the material for trials at the Court of Assizes. 
I wish to shield myself from your falsehood and 
babbling. You will return to Livone. This even- 
ing at three o’clock you will take the train for 
Spain. You will be to-morrow at Madrid. From 
there you can get to any country that suits you. I 
forbid you ever to return to France.” 

Bressac tried to reply in his usual bragging 
boulevard manner : 

“ On my word, Monsieur ! you are magnificent ! 
It is not a drama we are playing, but a vulgar 
melodrama. And if I refuse to obey ? ” 


3 22 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 


“If you refuse, the paper which you have just 
signed shall be taken by me to the President of 
the Republic, our great law authority in France. 
Meanwhile, get away, get out of here ! ” 

Bressac had fastened up his bonds, and slowly 
he left the salon, where Raoul, standing up, was 
menacing him, his wounded arm extended. He 
felt cowed, and when he got to the avenue, he 
murmured : 

“ He is an honest man. He is in the right ! ” 


XX. 

After the departure of Bressac, Raoul fell back 
in his arm-chair, saying to himself : 

“ It is true, I have been playing a vulgar melo- 
drama, but I have suffered so much, that I wish 
from henceforth that my life should be quiet and 
tranquil, and that nobody belonging to me should 
be at the mercy of these wretches. It seems to 
make a better man of me now that my wife is not a 
millionairess. Now, have I the strength of mind 
to repair the past ? ” 

He thought over the terrible year which he had 
just passed through. He saw again mentally his 
bachelor apartments, that Sunday in June where 
he had awoke, muttering the word which had made 
him commit a crime : 

“ Ruined ! ruined ! ” 

He had just ruined his wife and child. Out of 
this fortune which yesterday reached nearly a 
million, there only remained two or three hundred 
thousand francs. To buy up the secret of his 
fault, he had lost seven hundred thousand francs. 


323 


324 THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 

Better would it have been to have shot himself than 
to marry. To shoot himself ! He had no right to 
do that now, and at present he did not think of it. 
He was liberated. 

“ This money which Bressac stole from me, I 
myself have stolen from my child, from my wife. 
I owe it to them. My duty is to regain that 
money.” 

While thus meditating, he felt a warm breath on 
his cheek and forehead, and a hand stole into his. 

“ Raoul ! ” 

“ Jeanne ! ” 

“ Now nothing can separate us from henceforth.” 

“ Alas ! Jeanne, we must separate and perhaps 
forever.” 

“ We are to separate ? ” 

“ Yes ; when we have repaid Aunt de Lansac the 
two hundred thousand francs which she has ad- 
vanced, and the one hundred thousand francs which 
my friend Lestious loaned me yesterday, out of 
your fortune, of which there were still nine hun- 
dred thousand, there will only remain two hundred 
thousand francs and this chateau. I lost a hundred 
thousand francs in Paris. I have just lost six hun- 
dred thousand more. It is I who have ruined you 
and our child ! ” 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 325 

“ And what does that signify if we have done our 
duty?” 

He muttered sadly, in lowering his head : 

“ After the situation in which you left your father’s 
house, it is almost poverty.” 

“ And does poverty frighten you, then, Raoul ? ” 

“ For myself, no ; for you and our child it 
does.” 

“ When one is poor, one works.” 

“ Yes, yes ; I shall work, but certainly not you. 
You will remain here ; you can live here very hand- 
somely, in quietly waiting for my work to give me 
the means of increasing our revenues.” 

“ What work ? What are you going to do, 
Raoul ? ” 

“ Leave here. Go away, perhaps to Paris ; per- 
haps farther ; devote myself entirely to my work, 
whatever it may be ; what I may choose ; follow 
fortune and regain all I have lost which did not 
belong to me ! ” 

“You wish to leave — alone ? ” 

“ In your goodness, Jeanne, you have saved my 
honor. You have saved my name ; that name 
which my parents left me as a sacred deposit, a 
trust; and which I have sullied. But I shall 
never forget that I have seriously offended you ; 


326 the price of a coronet. 

that all our love, all our mutual existence, is over — 
finished between us.” 

“ Raoul, do not remember all these things ; you 
wish to leave — so let it be. We will go together.” 

“ Jeanne, that is impossible.” 

“ You will work, Raoul ; we will work together. 
You do not know — you do not — this life of strug- 
gles, of horrible work. And now we will choose a 
business, a business where two, side by side, can 
build up again the fortune of our child. You will 
have more courage when I am near you. I have 
reconquered you, Raoul ; now I will never leave 
you. Our Aunt de Lansac will live here at the 
chateau. We will leave our child with her, during 
the time when our life will be taken up with our 
business, and we will come and spend here our 
holidays. You thought, then, that I would let 
you leave alone ? But you do not understand 
that I love you more than ever, that you are my 
life.” 

“Jeanne, Jeanne, you are allowing yourself to 
dream. You said to me that I was an honest 
man.” 

“ That is true.” 

“ Ah, well ; an honest man should never lie. 
This life beside me, these struggles which you 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 327 

would share, would all be a falsehood ; for I am 
unworthy of your love, of your devotion ! ” 

“ Be silent, be silent, Raoul ! ” 

“ No, no ; you ought to know what has been my 
life ; you ought to know the fault that I have 
committed.” 

“ Why, since there is no proof.” 

“ It does exist. It is there, in that envelope. 
It is a letter written by me. I will leave it to you ; 
when I am gone you can read it. And after hav- 
ing read it, you will acknowledge that I was right ; 
that you could never pardon me.” 

“ Very good, Raoul ; give me then that let- 
ter.” 

“ Here it is. Do not read it before me, or you 
will take away all my courage.” 

A terrible struggle took place in the mind of 
Jeanne. She would not wish, she never, wished, 
previously, to know the secret. Was she to know 
it now? A dull silence followed this last crowning 
explanation. Some one rapped at the door of the 
salon. It was Mademoiselle de Lansac who 
arrived, her happy laugh on her lips. 

“Well, now, what do I see? Raoul up, Raoul 
here, after a duel ? When your doors are shut ; 
when you refuse to allow your friends to come and 


328 the price of a coronet. 

see the wounded one. What is passing between 
you two, Jeanne ? ” 

The young wife went toward her, and cried 
out : 

“ My aunt, Raoul and you are my only family. 
Our reunion, then, makes a family council. Raoul 
will explain. We are nearly ruined. It required 
nearly all our fortune to repurchase a letter about 
which Raoul has told you.” 

Aunt Economy became livid. 

“ That letter, my aunt — I do not even know its 
contents. Here it is. Raoul wishes to leave, leave 
here without me, to work and regain our fortune, and 
he says I must only read this letter when he has 
left us. In my place, aunt, what would you do ? ” 

“ What should I do — what should I do, eh ? I 
have no reason to tell you, because you are a 
Mercoeur, little one. Perhaps you are going to 
do ” 

Already Jeanne had set fire to the envelope 
which Raoul had given her, and with an admirable 
calm and serenity she turned toward her husband : 

“ You see, now, Raoul, that nothing can sepa- 
rate us.” 

Raoul threw himself on his knees before his 
wife, and kissed her hands, sobbing quietly. They 


THE PRICE OF A CORONET. 329 

were tears of joy, of tenderness. The bad days 
had passed away. 

Seated in her arm-chair, sobbing like these two, 
the Dowager de Lansac repeated the phrase : 

“ Ah ! that little one, that little one ! She is 
really a Countess of Mercoeur ! ” 


THE END. 

















































